The Road Not Taken
by Morianna Phoenix
Summary: As far as Dumbledore knew, Harry was just the heir to Lily and James, but Dumbledore didn't know everything. Harry startes dreaming Tom Riddle's memories and learns that everyone, including himself, is not what they seem. Better summary inside.
1. Chapter 1: The Sunlight is a Lie

Title: The Road Not Taken (title subject to change)

Author: Morianna Phoenix

Summary: As far as Dumbledore knew, Harry was the heir to nothing more than Lily and James, but Dumbledore didn't know everything. In a race against time, Harry must piece together the dangerous puzzle of mysteries and secrets to learn the truth about his heritage and his history. Just as Harry begins his journey into this unknown future, his dreams take him back to a not so unfamiliar past that Harry wishes he didn't have to remember, where old emotions and well known internal conflicts resurface with all their former intensity. The strange thing: That past wasn't his. Orwas it?Forced to deal with his own emotions and struggles as well as those of the troubled boy who would one day become Lord Voldemort, Harry must learn from his enemy's mistakes before his own life leads him down a frighteningly similar road.

Chapter One: Sunlight Is Just A Lie

"_Go away!" The boy yelled, apparently at no one. He was about nine years old and had wavy dark brown hair and his emerald green eyes were currently glaring at the portion of space about two feet in front of him at eye level._

"_Talking to garden hedges now, Riddle?" The green eyed boy jumped a little in surprise when he heard the familiar drawl behind him. He turned to see a blond haired boy aboutten years of age lounging against the brick wall that separated the orphanage's tiny back yard from the neighboring estate._

"_I wasn't talking to the garden hedge," Riddle declared indigantly._

"_Oh, were you talking to an imaginary friend then?" The blond haired boy teased him further. His steel grey eyes were cruelly amused._

"_No, I was talking to-" Suddenly he stopped, realizing that he didn't know what the thing he had been talking to was. "I don't know what it's called," he confessed. The blond haired boy sighed exasperatedly and rolled his eyes._

"_Well what does it look like," he asked, humoring the younger boy for the moment._

"_It was maybe two feet tall and had huge brown eyes the size of tennis balls. Its ears looked kind of like a bat's wings and it had long fingers and a long nose." For a moment, the older boy stared at the orphan unbelieving. He was about to say something, but hesitated. Should he really do it? He knew he could get in huge trouble, but if Riddle had already seen it…_

_Making up his mind, he said, "Dorry, come here," and snapped his fingers. There was a loud crack and suddenly the very creature Riddle had described materialized on the top of the wall._

"_What is Master Marius wanting Dorry to do?" The strange creature looked respectfully down at the blond boy and waited for his reply._

"_I just wanted to ask you a few questions. Were you following that boy around?" He pointed to the green eyes boy on the other side of the wall._

"_Yes Master Marius, sir," Dorry replied. Marius frowned. That was unusual. Why would his house elf be following a nine year old orphan around, let alone a nine year old orphan who was a muggle?_

"_Why were you following him?" Both Marius and Riddle waited eagerly for this answer. For a long moment, the house elf was silent, as if thinking about her answer. Then she said,_

"_Dorry was following him because I is seeing him do magic and I is thinking that he shouldn't be left alone with all those muggles. I knows that I isn't supposed to be going into a muggle house, and Dorry will punish herself for being bad. Dorry will put her ears in the oven." The house elf ended her answer with a very solemn and apologetic tone. Riddle stared at the creature in a mixture of wonder and horror at what it had said. He was horrified that someone, even if it were only this creature, had caught him doong magic_._ On the other hand, the statement that what he had been doing was magic filled him with wonder. He had never thought of it as being magic, just of it being unusual._

"_You can do magic Riddle," demanded Marius in a shocked voice, "You mean you're not just a-" Before he could finish, there was another crack and a second house elf appeared on the wall._

"_Excuse me Young Master Marius, but your father is wishing to see you in the dinning room for lunch and says for you to come right away."_

"_Alright, I'll be right there," he told the second house elf. Then he once again addressed the younger boy, "Will you be able to come outside tomorrow morning at, say, ten?" The green eyed boy nodded. Just then, a bell rang on the other side of the orphanage._

"_I have to go to lunch too, but I can meet you here at ten," he said, "See you tomorrow."_

"_See you tomorrow Riddle," Marius said in return as the apparently not muggle boy headed for the orphanage. "Hey Riddle," the blond suddenly called out, "What's your first name?" Pausing with his hand on the door knob, Riddle turned around and look back at Marius, who was still leaning on the wall. _

"_It's Tom," he answered._

"_It's nice to meet you Tom." Surprised, Tom didn't reply for a moment. Nobody had ever been pleased to meet him before. Even though he had talked to Marius many times, the other boy had never done anything but bother him before today. But now he was actually being nice to him. By saying that, it was like they were staring all over again._

"_It's nice to meet you too, Marius," Tom replied, giving the other boy one of his rare true smiles. Then he opened the door and went in for lunch, thinking as he closed the door behind him, that perhaps he had just made his first friend._

'That was an odd dream,' Harry Potter thought to himself as he opened his eyes and blinked several times to clear the fog of sleep from his vision. For several minutes, he stared at the canopy of his bed, waiting for his mind to wake up completely. When it did, everything that had happened in the passed two days came rushing back to him and he almost selfishly wished that he had remained sleeping.

Two facts above all seemed to burn a hole in his heart: Dumbledore was dead and Harry would have no one to guide him. Only the promise of Ron, Hermione, and Ginny accompanying him on his journey saved him from falling into a depression. Sitting up and pushing back the red blankets, Harry swung his legs over the edge of the bed and let his feet rest on the cool hardwood floor. He stood slowly and made his way to the window seat next to his bed. Brilliant golden sunlight poured into the room, bathing everything in a soft glow. For a moment, Harry stared at it in disbelief. It seemed impossible that such a thing could still happen, that nature could go on pretending that there had been no tradgedy. It seemed that such sunlight must be a lie, for how could anything so evocative of peace be present in the world when there was death and suffering everywhere. Sitting down, he gazed out the window and his mind drifted to the memory of another time when he had sat at this same window and gazed out at the same landscape, a time where he had felt, just as he felt now, that one era of his life had come to an end and that he was about to cross the threshold into a completely unknown and mysterious world.

It had been night then, his first night at Hogwarts. He remembered staring out at the starry sky and thinking that perhaps his life was going to take a better turn, that perhaps he would finally be able to live normally and happily. At eleven years old, he had never dreamed that only six years later, he would be sitting there contemplating how he was going to fight a war against the most powerful dark lord of all time. Sighing, he turned and gazed around the room. All the other boys were still asleep. Ron was snoring loudly. Seamus was muttering something about dungbombs in his sleep. Dean was sprawled dead to the world on his bed, face down with his face completely covered by a pillow and his left arm dangling off the edge of the bed. Neville was sleeping propped up on his pillows with a book still in his hands. Looking at them all, he felt a shock, like a knife, stab his heart as he realized he might never see Neville and Seamus and Dean again. He would never wake up to the sunlight shining on the dormitory floor again. He would never hear Seamus mutter all sorts of ridiculous things in his sleep which would send Dean into hysterics. Neville would never ask him for help with his transfiguration homework again. He would never go to classes again or play on the Gryffindor Quidditch team again. He would never eat another start of term feast in the great hall. He would never see another sorting. He would never take another train ride to Hogwarts. He would never ever come home again.

When he at last realized this last fact he felt a part of him rebel. He felt a prickling sensation in his eyes and a tightening in his throat. At first he didn't recognize the feelings, but then he realized what was going on. For only the second time that he could remember in more than six years, Harry Potter was crying.

-

Author's Note: Don't be fooled. This starts out likeyour average seventh year cannonfic, but after the first two chapters, the plot picks up and things get alot more interesting.

Please PLEASE review and tell me what you think. I'mgoing to try to keep this asin characteras possible with the exception of one person, who I am tweaking slightly. If you notice any mistakes in dates, names, or other factual information, please point it out to me. Also, if any one would like to volunteer to beta this story it would be greatly appreciated. That's pretty much it and the next post should be tomorrow or the day after tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2: There Is Always Hope

Hi, sorry this was a couple of days late. I wasn't able to finish writing this chapter on time because the computer it was saved on was having technical difficulties. Luckily those are fixed now, so I'll hopefully be able to post when I say I will. I looked at my stats and was disappointed to see that while almost fifty people had looked at this story, not a single one of them reviewed. I know there was not much to review about, but still, not one out of fifty. I really hope that I get a few reviews for this chapter, if I have the same kind of hits to reviews ration, I probably won't finish the fic because there isn't a point if no one likes it. I would really appreciate it if you guys could tell me if I should keep writing it. Any way, here's the next chapter:

The Road Not Taken, Chapter Two: There Is Always Hope

For a long while, Harry sat on the window sill, silent tears running down his cheeks. At last, he heard one of the other boys stirring. Hastily he wiped the tears from his face with the sleeve of his pajamas. When he was sure he no longer looked like he had been crying, he turned once more to face the rest of the room and saw that it was surprisingly Ron who had woken up. From the expression on the red head's face, he too was thinking rather grimm thoughts. With a yawn and a stretch, he carelessly slid out of bed and pulled over a chair from one of the desks so that he could sit down next to Harry. Sitting backwards and resting his arms and his chin on the back of the chair, the youngest Weasley boy gave a sigh.

"I can't believe we're actually leaving," he said quietly after a few seconds.

"I know," Harry whispered dejectedly, not lifting his eyes from the floor. For a long while, neither of them spoke. They didn't need to. The two boys had been best friends since they were eleven years old and understood exactly what each other was feeling. Knowing that he had to do it, but still childishly feeling that if he didn't leave the dorm then he would not have to leave the school, Harry dragged himself away from the window seat and went to get dressed.

Twenty minutes later, Harry and Ron were standing in the Gryffindor Common Room with their trunks at their sides, waiting for Hermione and Ginny so that they could go all go down and eat their last breakfast at Hogwarts together. During the entire walk to the Great Hall, none of them said a word. They were not the only ones who were acting sullen and depressed. That mood hung over the school as surely as if there were hundreds of Dementors in the castle. The only sounds in the Great Hall were the clattering of utensils and hushed whispers. No one seemed to think it was proper to speak louder than that. The quartet's silence had become so unbearable, that finally Harry tried to lighten the mood by saying, "Hey guys, at least this is the last time we'll have to complain about Ron stuffing his face in the Great Hall." He tried to give them a grin, but even as he finished saying the words, he knew his joke was not going to work. In fact it had an effect completely opposite to what he intended. Ron stopped eating, his fork half way to his mouth and dropped the utensil, letting it clatter on the plate. Ginny stared at the floor and Hermione gave a strangled laugh that turned into a sob.

She covered her face with her hands and for a moment it looked as if she was going to cry, but then she took a deep breath and returned her hands to her lap. "Are you okay, Hermione," a quiet voice asked from her left (Harry was sitting on her right). The quartet all turned in surprise to see Neville Longbottom looking at her with a concerned expression on his face. They had all been so lost in their own thoughts and feelings that they hadn't even noticed the other Gryffindor's arrival.

"Yes, I'm fine," she said with a sniffle, "I just-" Here she cleared her throat. "I am still sort of in shock about what happened over the past few days and the idea that the school might close is a bit hard to handle." Neville nodded sympathetically and explained that he felt the same way.

"I just feel as though I should be doing something," he confessed in frustration. "It's driving me crazy to just sit here when the people that tortured my parents and-" he still couldn't bring himself to say 'Snape' "-the person that killed Professor Dumbledore are still out there. I want to stop them. It's not revenge. It's just that I don't want them to hurt anyone else. I don't want any one else to have to go through what I've gone through, you know." Three of the listening Gryffindors stared in shock. Not only was that by far the longest they had ever heard him speak, but it was also the most Gryffindor-like thing they had heard him say. In fact, it seemed like something Harry might have said.

Harry himself in the meantime gave Neville a solemn smile that spoke of experience that no sixteen year old should have under their belt and said, "I think we all feel that way Neville." The rest of the meal passed in a solemn and thoughtful, if not more than a bit depressed, mood. When at last Neville and most of the other Gryffindor sixth years had gone out side to wander the grounds until it was time to go down to the train, and the quartet could no longer postpone their departure from the Gryffindor table, they got up and reestablished themselves just outside the door.

"There are a few things we have to do before we leave," Harry told his friends in a quiet voice once the last group of people leaving the Great Hall had passed out of earshot, "First, we have to get Gryffindor's sword. Second, we have to take a few memories from Professor Dumbledore's pensive. And third, I need to have a little talk with Professor Slughorn."

"Oh, Harry, you can't take memories from Professor Dumbledore's pensive," Hermione cried, "It wouldn't be right."

"Why do you need to see Slughorn, Harry," Ginny asked almost as soon as Hermione finished speaking.

"And how are you going to just walk out of Professor Du- McGonagall's office with a bloody great sword? Someone's bound to notice it," Ron added. His sister glared at him as if he were an idiot.

"Don't be stupid, Ron, he's not going to walk around with a full sized sword. Obviously he'd have to shrink it," she told him as if speaking to a child. In response, he said nothing, but his ears turned red and he looked at the floor sheepishly.

"Hermione," Harry began, "we need those memories. They're the only things that might tell us more about what Riddle did. And to answer your question, Ginny, if Slughorn knew haw to make you-know-whats, then he probably knows how to destroy them too." She frowned, still feeling that it was wrong to be stealing a dead man's memories, but she acknowledged that it was necessary. "So," he continued, "the first order of business is to find out how to get into Professor McGonagall's office. I have an idea, but we need to go somewhere where we won't be seen or overheard." That of course meant the room of requirement.

Fifteen minutes later when they were all seated on a pair of couches in the room of requirement, Harry snapped his fingers and called out, "Dobby, would you please come here?" An instant later, there was a _crack_ and the house elf appeared.

"What can Dobby do for Harry Potter," he asked.

"Dobby, I was wondering if you know if Professor McGonagall had changed the password to her office yet."

"Yes sir, Dobby knows. The headmistress has not changed the password to her office. It is the same password that the great Professor Dumbledore used," the elf replied dutifully.

"Thank you, Dobby, you may go now. And have a good summer." Dobby returned the farewell and disappeared with a second _crack_. Turning to his friends, Harry pulled an old folded up piece of parchment from his robe pocket and unfolded it. Pointing his wand at it, he said, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good." When he looked up at them, he saw that Hermione looked absolutely scandalized that Harry had just summoned Dobby as if he were Harry's house elf. He hated to imagine what she would do if she knew that he owned Kreacher. Neither of the Weasleys seemed to mind. "I brought, this," he explained, "because I figured that if we're going to sneak into Professor McGonagall's office, then we might as well know where she is at all times." He paused and looked at the map. "Right now she's in her old office. It looks like the coast is clear. Let's go and let's hope she didn't lock the pensive up.

Having heard the right password, the gargoyle stepped aside for Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny to enter what only days ago had been Albus Dumbledore's office. Looking around, Harry realized that the new headmistress had not touched as single thing in the office. The cabinet in which the pensive was stored was still unlocked. Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry opened it and looked down into the silvery pool of liquid. From his pocket, he pulled a glass vial in which to store the memories. Taking a deep breath and concentrating very, very hard on the memories he wanted to take, Harry touched the tip of the wand to the surface of the liquid. A moment later, he exhaled loudly when he saw two whisps of silver clung to the end of his wand. He put them in the vial and sealed it. Then he closed the cabinet doors and turned to see that Ron and Ginny had already succeeded in lifting Gryffindor's heavy sward from it's shelf on the wall and Hermione was currently shrinking it. When she had shrunk it down to the size of a pencil, she handed it to Harry who put it in a small silver scabbard, which was surprisingly exactly the right size.

"Harry, where did you get that," Hermione asked, curiosity and even surprise evident on her face.

"In the room of requirement," he explained, "when I wished for somewhere to talk, I also wished for something to carry the miniaturized sward in."

"But Harry, look at what it says." His brow furrowing in confusion, Harry looked down at the small object to see what the big deal was. When he read the inscription, his eyes widened momentarily before he realized that he should have expected it. After all, he hadn't asked for something to put just any sward in. He had asked for something to put Godric Gryffindor's sward in. It only made sense that the room would give him the scabbard that was made for it. Shrugging, Harry stuck the now miniature sward in the ankle of his boot since it would look ackward in his pocket.

"Well that's taken care of," Ginny said, "We should probably get going if you plan to talk to Slughorn into answering that question for you, Harry." He nodded and the quartet exited the office with Harry in the rear. The other three had already passed the gargoyle, but Harry, who had been a bit slower in leaving, was just about to close the door behind him when suddenly he heard his name.

"Harry." He spun around at the sound of the familiar voice, his pulse racing. His heart plummeted as he realized it was only the portrait. "Harry," the likeness of the former headmaster said, in the same tone his corporeal counterpart had used in life, "A word before you go." Letting go of the doorknob and crossing the room to where the portrait hung on the wall, Harry asked in a strained voice,

"What is it, sir?" The portrait smiled kindly at him.

"Don't let misery and doubt overcome you, Harry. Remember there is always hope. There is always aid for those who truly need it, if only they search hard enough. And don't be too miserable about my passing, my boy. After all, death is just the next great adventure."

"Harry!" Hermione's voice interrupted. Harry looked over his shoulder in the direction of the door.

"Well go on," portrait-Dumbledore said, "You'll need to hurry if you want to talk to Professor Slughorn. And by the way, a little hint, Horace always did have a soft spot for flattery." He gave the Gryffindor a wink and with his eyes twinkling brightly, he nodded in the direction of the door, as if to say 'What are you waiting for?' Harry looked at him for one moment longer and then managed to push out a quiet

"Good bye Professor." Portrait Dumbledore smiled again and instead of saying good bye, he said,

"Good luck, Harry." As hard as it was to turn away, Harry knew he had to go and so, calling up all his Gryffindor strength, he turned away without looking back, strode out the door and closed it behind him with a determined finality.

Coming Soon (within the next three or four days): Chapter Three: Leaving Home: Harry's conversation with Slughorn, the departure from Hogwarts and, Harry hasan interesting encounter with the mysterious Ravenclaw ghost. In this chapter, some old memories begin to surface and Harry has an overwhelming sense of Deja Vu.


	3. Chapter 3: Leaving Home

Seriously, the hits to reviews ratio for this story is absolutely ridiculous. Over four hundred people have looked at this story and yet I have only gotten three reviews, one of which was not even a real review. Unless people start reviewing, this is probably the last chapter that I'll be posting. If anyone wants me to continue the story, then you must review and tell me so. Thanks to Slayerq and VeelaRabidFangirl for actually being considerate enough to take the time to review. In regards to the long delay in posting, you have my sincerest apologies. I just got home from a two week vacation with my family during which I did not have access to the internet.

The Road Not Taken Chapter 3: Leaving Home

A short while later, Harry Potter was alone in the dungeons, preparing to knock on Professor Slughorn's door. 'You better watch yourself in enemy territory,' Ron had said. To which Hermione had responded by swatting him on the arm and pointing out in an exasperated voice that just because certain Slytherins were bastards, that did not give Ron the right to think badly of them all. Harry grimaced at the memory of his friend's words. Until now, he would have wholly agreed with her, but as of late, her sentiments were getting harder and harder to believe. He only prayed that this one Slytherin would still be willing to help him. Raising his hand and hoping for the best, Harry rapped sharply on the door three times. Several seconds of silence passed before he heard a muffled, "Coming! Just a moment!" This was followed by the sound of locks being opened and finally, the door creaked open.

Slughorn was wearing a pair of plain black pants and the same maroon velvet overcoat he had been wearing on the day Harry had first met him. "Oh, Harry, come in, come in. What can I do for you my boy," he said with less spirit than he usually had. He looked tired. "Here, have a seat." Slughorn gestured for Harry to seat himself in one of the two chairs across from his desk. After both of them had settled themselves comfortably, the professor who was now once more the head of Slytherin house asked Harry again, "What can I do for you Harry?"

"I know that this is a touchy subject Professor, but it's terribly important, sir and you're the only one who can help me." Harry molded his features into an expression of worry and distress. His voice too gave the impression that he was a bit more helpless than he really was. Make Slughorn think that Harry looked up to him and was lost with out his assistance. That was the game. Of course it worked.

"Well what is it Harry, by all means I'll try to help you." Hoping that the professor wouldn't change his mind once he heard the question, Harry ploughed ahead.

"It's about the Horcruxes-" He didn't even have to finish the sentence.

"I've already told you everything I know. I gave you the memory, what else do you want?" His voice was edgy and it was obvious that he was nervous. It seemed he carried a lot of guilt around over the fact that he had told Riddle about the horcruxes to begin with. Guilt Harry could use to his advantage.

"There's one thing you haven't told me and one thing you didn't tell Riddle," Harry corrected calmly.

"How would you know if I had left something out? To be sure of that, you would have to know what I left out, in which case you wouldn't be asking me because you would already know." It was clear that Slughorn was making an attempt to confuse Harry into giving up, but as nervous and tired as he was, the professor's distraction tacticswere not at all up to par.

Harry leaned forward, closer to Slughorn, giving the impression that he was almost afraid to ask and when he spoke, his voice was lowered. "No sir, there was something you didn't tell Riddle and I know you didn't tell him because it's something he never would have asked." Harry paused for dramatic effect and put even more insecurity into his voice. "I need to know how to destroy a horcrux." Slughorn looked up in surprise. That had not been what he had expected to hear. He sighed in relief. There was no way that this student was going to do anything horrible with the information he sought. And he had been fearful about asking. No, this one would not cause any harm. It was safe to tell him. Sighing, the former head of Slytherin straightened himself and replied.

"It's a simple spell. Astoundingly simple actually. It requires no ceremony, no bloodshed, no sacrifice. To perform it, you only need a wand and a good deal of power as well as a strong will. It's only two words. Deleo Anima."

"Deleo Anima," Harry repeated skeptically, "That's it? There is nothing else?" Could it really be that easy?

"Yes, it's as easy as, to use a morbid example, Avada Kederva. As I said before, you need nothing more than power and a strong will."

"But how do you know if it worked sir," Harry questioned curiously, "I mean is the object itself destroyed?"

"No," Slughorn explained patiently, now very much at ease, "The object is unchanged. It's only the piece of the soul that's destroyed. I'll tell you how you know it has worked. This spell is dark purple and surrounds the object like a flame. If it works, the flames turn black and then disappear. If the spell fails, then the light will remain purple. If it is not a horcrux at all, then the light will turn white." Harry's brow furrowed as he forced himself to memorize the colors. When he had finished, he looked up at the professor once more.

"Is that all there is to know," Harry asked.

"That is everything," Slughorn replied, silently adding, 'Everything you need to know to successfully cast the spell.' He purposely left out the little details of the side effects the spell could have on the caster. He didn't need to frighten the boy with things that he would never have to encounter.

"Well, thank you Professor," Harry said after a moment and stood to leave. Slughorn accompanied him to the door.

"I trust I'll see you next September if the school remains open," the professor said in his usual cheerful manner.

"Of course," Harry lied, a smile on his face, "I wouldn't dream of staying away if I had the option to return."

"Good to hear, good to hear, my boy. Enjoy your summer."

"I'll try, sir." Harry employed a sad, suffering smile, the one that made him seem like a martyr.

"And study hard," Slughorn advised.

"Oh, I will sir," Harry assured him, determination clear in his eyes. Slughorn seemed pleased with this answer. 'If only you knew what I'll be studying,' Harry thought. Finally, he bid his teacher farewell and set off, up the corridor toward the entrance hall. As the door closed behind the young Gryffindor, Slughorn's bloodshot eyes widened as he suddenly realized what the boy intended to use the information he had just received. "What have I done?" He asked himself, praying that he had not just handed another boy the keys to his doom.

Harry had climbed two flights of stairs and was only one floor below the entrance hall now. Looking down at his feet, he noticed that the shoelace of his left sneaker was untied. Deciding that with his luck, he was likely to trip over it if he left it that way, Harry bent down to fix it. He finished tying the double knot and stood up, about to continue on.

"Harry Potter, you must wait!" The voice that cried out was forceful and urgent. Harry was lucky he had stopped to tie his shoe or he might have fallen down the stairs in alarm at the sudden noise in the otherwise silent corridor. To his further surprise, the person who had addressed him was none other than the supposedly silent ghost of Ravenclaw house. "You must wait. I have something very important to tell you and there is very little time before you must leave Hogwarts forever."

Still gaping, Harry stood up and walked back down several steps to stand in front of her. She had curly hair which came to her shoulders and apretty face. She must have been fairly young when she died. "My name is Melanie Duval," the ghost revealed, "but no one save your friends needs to know that." He didn't really know how to respond. Somehow he didn't think a 'Hi Mel, nice to meet you and if you don't mind, why are you talking to me since you've never spoken to any of the other students before,' would be very appropriate. Therefore he opted for remaining silent. "What I have to tell you has been a very well kept secret for many years. It was so well kept in fact that not even the late Headmaster Dumbledore knew about it. It is the truth about your family Harry. There are many things that you don't know about your heritage."

"Like what," Harry asked, enthralled.

"For instance, your mother was not a muggleborn." Harry would have commented on this, but the ghost continued on before he had the opportunity to do so. "I can't explain it all in person because I might be overheard. What I can tell you is that I have left an urn, like a pensive full of memories that will show you the truth about your heritage. I'm so sorry that I have to be so cryptic, but I must tell location of the urn to you in a riddle." She paused for a moment, as if trying to remember it. Harry got the impression that she had been waiting to tell him this for a very long time.

"_This_ riddle has two beginnings here.

One in life and the other in fantasy.

The direction you want is straight forward,

But you must look like it is diagonally.

What you wish to find, though very full,

Is within a hollow still.

The answeris not in memory

But in memory of a dream." The sixth year Gryffindor stared at her, bewildered.

"I don't know if I will be able to remember all that," he confessed with concern.

"Don't worry," Melanie assured him, "you will not forget it. Remember that you must find the urn. It's very important." He nodded. "Now you must go." Looking at his watch, Harry saw that it was indeed time for the students to go down to the train station, Harry broke into a run and sprinted up the remaining flights of stairs to meet his friends in the entrance hall.

"That was really pushing it close to the time limit," Ginny declared as Harry clutched her arm for support while he caught his breath from running up four flights of stairs. "So did he tell you?"

"Yah," Harry answered, once his breathing had returned to normal, "It's a lot easier than I thought, but I can't tell you here. Besides, there isn't time. We've got to catch a carriage quickly or with my luck, we'll be stuck with the Creevy brothers." With that thought as motivation, the quartet made it down to the carriages in record time. For once it seemed that Harry's luck was not all bad. The were not stuck with the Creevy brothers, only with two second year Ravenclaws who they had never spoken to.

An half an hour later, they were settled in to their compartment on the train, pulling out of Hogsmeade station. Once the train was well on its way, Harry decided it was now safe to tell his friends what he had learned. Just to be safe, he cast an Imperturbable charm on the compartment. Then he explained to his friends what he had learned from Slughorn and what he had been told by the ghost of Melanie Duval. He asked Hermione if she had heard of such a person. Unfortunately, she had not. Fortunately, Ginny had.

"How do _you _know who she is when even _Hermione_ has never heard of her," Ron demanded of his sister in shock.

"I never said I knew who she was, Ron. I said I'd heard of her." She rolled her eyes at her brother's antics. "I know I've heard the name before, but I can't place it," she mused. "Oh well, I suppose I'll think of it eventually."

"Any effort is helpful," Harry told his girlfriend. Then he turned to Hermione and asked, "So do you think you can help me figure this riddle out?" He was thinking back to their adventure in their first year. She had solved the riddle in the room with all the bottles. This riddle wasn't exactly the same type of thing. For one, it wasn't based on logic, but she was probably still the person most likely to solve it.

"Of course I'll help," Hermione said, "but I think I'll need a night to sleep on that one. Ask me tomorrow morning if I've come up with anything." Harry nodded, thinking about how odd it would be to be living with Hermione Ron twenty-four seven. It had already been decided that the three of them would be living in Grimwald Place. Hermione had written to her parents, saying that she would be staying with Harry and Ron until after Bill and Fleur's wedding. She forgot to mention that she wouldn't be coming home after the wedding. She felt bad about tricking her parents, but it was a necessary sacrifice. Ron had, over many fire calls, some how –Harry, Hermione, and Ginny had still not figured out how- convinced his parents to let him live withHarry and Hermione over the summer on the condition that the trio came to the Burrow for dinner every Saturday and Sunday. Ginny was given permission to stay at Grimwald Place during the day, but because of her age, Mrs. Weasley absolutely forbade Ginny to live anywhere other than home. He contemplated the subject for a long while, but didn't say anything about it out loud, aware that it would only irritate Ginny.

By the time the train was only an hour away from Kingscross, Ron had fallen asleep. Hermione and Ginny were both looking at a book, occasionally pointing things in the text out to each other in hushed voices, careful not to wake the sleeping boy in the next seat. Harry sighed almost inaudibly and crossed his arms over his chest as his eyes unfocused and he drifted into a daydream.

_"Merry Christmas Melanie," he said, handing her a small box wrapped in silver paper with a blue ribbon. The seventh year looked up at her boyfriend insurprise. She hadn't expected him to get her a gift. Knowing how little money he had, she hoped it wasn't anything expensive. She pushed her curly red hair out of her bright blue eyes and began opening the gift. She carefully untied the ribbon and placed on the table beside her. Then she pulled the shining silver paper off. The box itself was simple enough, plain, white, and made of cardboard. But when she opened the box, she gasped._

"_Oh, Tom," she said, sounding almost sorry, "You really shouldn't have." She held the beautiful present to the light. It was a heavy gold locket on a delicate chain with an ornate S, which reminded her of a snake, engraved on the front. He could tell that she was worrying about the money she thought it cost him. Being reminded once again that he was poor was embarrassing, but he didn't let it show. Instead he shook his head and explained._

"_Don't worry, I didn't buy it. It was my mother's."_

"_Your mother's? I absolutely can't take it then. It's the only thing you have to remember her by," the young woman declared. It was clear from the expression in her sapphire eyes that she both wanted to accept the gift very much and felt very guilty about doing so._

"_It's not like I'll never see it again. In fact, I'll see it everyday, now that it will be around your neck instead of in a box in the bottom of my trunk. And besides, I want you to have it." He didn't give her the chance to continue arguing. Instead he took the locket from her hands and fastened it around her neck. Finally, she gave in and pushed the pointless guiltiness out of her mind. If Tom wanted her to have it, then he wanted her to have it and it was stupid, not to mention rude to refuse such a beautiful and special gift_

"_Thank you so much," she said at last with a smile. He smiled back and kissed her lightly on the lips._

"Harry. Harry! Wake up, would you." He was abruptly woken when his girlfriend jabbed his shoulder forcefully with her wand. "Honestly, you're worse than Ron," she muttered, before continuing in a very Mrs. Weasley-ish manner, "Harold James Potter, if you don't get up this instant, I'm going to hex you silly." Blinking in confusion, He pushed her arm away.

"I'm awake, I'm awake. You don't need to threaten me," I declared, annoyed. Then he looked around suddenly, as if sleep's hold on him had only now disappeared and he was alert for the first time. "We're here already? I'm sorry I snapped at you. Thanks for waking me up." Stretching, he stood and pulled his trunk down from the overhead compartment and filed the odd dream away in his head for future contempletion. The Quartet exited the Hogwarts Express as one. None of them allowed themselves to think that this would be the last time they would ever be on that train. They forced themselves to think only of the celebration that would soon take place, as they strode toward the Weasley clan, which had gathered in its entirety on the platform to great their two youngest members and the two others whom they considered part of the family. Pulling his trunk along behind him, he thought about how lucky he was to know people like the Weasleys, who could make even an orphan feel like he had a family. Mrs. Weasley enveloped him in a hug and the twins clapped him on the back in greating. He felt himself smile for the first time in days, thinking, 'What would I ever do with out them?'

**The next chapter will be called 'The Gift' in which (predictably) Harry recieves a gift. If anyone wants to guess who gives him the gift and who it belonged to before him, you can put that in your review.**

Thanks for being so patient! I hope you can continue to be patient for a while longer. I'm afraid that I won't be able to post the next chapter until the first of September at the earliest, due to the fact that I am a horrible procrastinator and have yet to finish the abhorrent amount of summer homework which I unfortunately have to do. Once I have passed it all in and the stress is off, I should be able to get the next chapter done fairly quickly. I will of course post it sooner if I have the opportunity, but that's highly unlikely. Again, thank you for being patient and feedback is greatly appreciated.


	4. Chapter 4: The Gift

**Author's note: Sorry for the incredibly long silence. I have not dropped off the face of the earth, rather I have been working on an original novel of mine. I'm disappointed that no one ever gives me their predictions as to where the story will go when they review. I would love it if my reviewers could do that, as well as give literary reviews (you know on writing style, plot mechanisms, and the like). And PLEEEEEEEEESE will you all tell me your opinion on this chapter and the character (or maybe characters) who show up? Warning EXTREME OOC-NESS!**

**R&R. Enjoy:**

The Road Not Taken Chapter Four- The Gift:

Several days later, after getting settled into Grimwald place, the Golden Trio found themselves standing on the doorstep of number four Privet Drive. It was a comfortable summer afternoon and luckily, it appeared that both Vernon and Dudley Dursley were out for the day, which was very unusual, but Harry wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth, so he instead settled on thanking whatever deity existed for small blessings. Then he –who like his two friends was dressed in entirely normal muggle clothing-, reached up and rang the doorbell. Only an instant later, the door opened and the trio was met with a very surprised Petunia Dursley.

"What are you doing here, Harry," his aunt asked awkwardly. Strangely enough, she did not sound annoyed, merely confused. Harry opened his mouth to reply, but before he got the chance, his aunt cut him off. "Nevermind. Don't answer that out here. I know it has something to do with-," she looked around and lowered her voice- , "wizards, and I don't want the neighbors to hear." She paused again and Harry thought she was going to say something about how she didn't want the neighbors to associate her with anything abnormal, but he was in for quite a shock. "In times like these," she continued, "we can never be too careful." Harry, Ron, and Hermione all stared at her strangely. Harry was gaping at her as if she had grown a second head. "Come on now," she said in a normal voice and audible tone, "Why don't you three have a seat in the parlor." She ushered them inside ant shut the door tightly behind her, as if afraid the neighbors might overhear them if the door was left so much as a crack open.

It was not until they were all seated that Harry's brain registered that Petunia had actually called them 'wizards' instead of just saying 'your kind'. It took another moment for him to notice that the multitude of portraits of Dudley that had 'graced' the mantle for as long as he could remember were conspicuously absent. This being very suspicious, Harry took a look around the room and tried to see what else was different, if anything was. Since he was already looking at the mantle, the first thing he looked at was the fireplace, which to his surprise, was no longer electric, but had been restored to its proper state. Looking away from the fireplace, one of the few objects on the mantle caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. It was a small pot. That in itself was nothing unusual. It was what the pot was filled with that raised Harry's curiosity level to a height never before bestowed on anything even remotely connected to the Dursleys. For what the pot contained was not a plant, it was powder. Very familiar looking, very _green_ powder. And it looked suspiciously like floo powder. Petunia finally took a seat herself and Harry snapped out of it. He turned to face his aunt and asked the first question that came to mind, "Aunt Petunia, what happened to all the pictures of Dudley and where are he and Uncle Vernon." At the mention of their names, Petunia made a face. It seemed from her expression that she and Vernon had had a falling out.

"They moved out of the house, or rather, I kicked them out of it –it is my house you know- just a week after you went back to Hogwarts in September." She sniffed in disdain at the memory of them.

"Why do I suddenly feel as if I'm in the middle of a Twilight Zone episode?" Harry muttered to himself. Every one in the room heard the comment and each of them had a different reaction. Hermione replied that it was because the so called natural order of the Dursley household had been turned completely upside down. Ron asked what the twilight zone was. Petunia just laughed. This startled Harry back into staring at her again. And that's when started to notice the subtle little things that were different about his aunt's appearance. First and foremost, she no longer resembled a horse in any way shape or form. Her hair was longer and had been died a pale auburn-brown color. She looked a little younger, though that was probably due to the fact that her former signature stiffness had apparently vanished. Something about the way she looked now was very familiar to Harry, though he was sure had not previously been associated with Petunia Dursley. In fact, now that he really thought about it, Harry realized that she looked more like his mother.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Dursley," Hermione asked, "what's so funny, and why did you kick your husband and your son out of the house?" Petunia stopped laughing and looked at each of them warily for a moment and then shook her head and muttered that she was beginning to act paranoid.

"First of all, Hermione –your name is Hermione, isn't it- Vernon," Petunia said his name with more than a little distaste, "is no longer my husband, I am very relieved to say, so my name is Evans, not Dursley. You may call me Ms. Evans or if you prefer, just Petunia. I'm still adjusting to re-entering our world you see. Being addressed by the name of a pigheaded, abusive muggle doesn't really help much." Now even Ron knew enough to stare at her.

"What do you mean _our_ world," Harry demanded.

"I mean the ma- my word, my memory must be slipping. I completely forgot I'd invited Arabella to tea." The change of topic had been caused by the sound of the doorbell ringing. When Petunia left the room to answer the door the three teens exchanged very confused, very shocked looks. Either this woman was not Petunia Evans or none of them had ever known the real Petunia Evans. Oddly enough, all three of them seemed to agree upon the later possibility. Shortly there after, Petunia returned with none other than Arabella Figg in tow. Mrs. Figg seated herself and upon noticing the three teenagers, she greeted them each by name.

"Hello, Mrs. Figg," they chorused.

"As I was saying," Petunia recommenced after sitting down, "When I said a moment ago that I was still adjusting to reentering our world, I meant the magical world." Seeing their expressions of utter disbelief, she said in an almost offended tone, "What? You didn't honestly think that any daughter of Heather Evans could possibly be a squib, did you?" Apparently they had. "My mother's mother was Juliet Ravencal, for Merlin's sake. There are not squibs in the lines of the founders." Harry and Ron looked confused again. Mrs. Figg looked as if she had apparently already been aware of this piece of information. Hermione on the other hand, who -unlike Ron and Harry- actually knew who on earth Juliet Ravencal was, leapt out of her seat.

In a voice that was nearly a shriek, Hermione exclaimed, "You're RELATED to Juliet Ravencal? The Juliet Ravencal, as in the last person to have that name, as in the heir of Rowena Ravenclaw?" Petunia looked at her calmly.

"Yes, _that_ Juliet Ravencal was my grandmother. And as for Terrence Evans, my father he was adopted, apparently he was a pureblood too, so my sister and I are purebloods, not muggleborns, which means you are a pureblood as well Harry." Going into a monologue now, Petunia continued on, oblivious to the fact that three shell-shocked teenagers were staring at her in bewilderment. "My aunt on the other hand, married a muggle, no he was a muggleborn, or maybe he was a halfblood. I never asked. Anyway, on the matter of Vernon and Dudley, Vernon became abusive toward me when you left, Harry and so I decided to defend myself. He didn't like the way I chose to do it and neither did Dudley. They tried to kick _me_ out of the house, but as you've already heard, it's my house, so that didn't exactly work. It was more Mother's wards that forced them to leave than it was me. Though I believe Vernon's hair will be purple for another few months yet." The last sentence was said with satisfaction.

Very slowly, Harry's brain began to process the words his aunt had spoken and he abruptly realized the implications of her last statement. She had hexed Vernon. That would mean she had a wand and was able to use it. In other words, she was a witch. Upon this revelation, Harry found himself once more gaping at her before he managed to sputter, "You mean you're a witch?"

"Of course I'm a witch. Didn't I say that there are never squibs in the lines of the founders?"

"Then why did you call me and any other witch or wizard you came across a freak? Why did you treat me so horribly? Why did you seem to hate magic? Why wouldn't you acknowledge that my mum was your sister, that you had a sister at all?" By the end of his list of questions, Harry was shouting angrily at the auburn haired, well, witch who sat across the room from him. For a moment, Petunia looked incredibly sad and then she shook her head, as if to gather her wits. When she answered Harry, she did so truthfully and regretfully.

"I had to do it, to protect you, to protect myself. I didn't want to loose my son. I might have become disillusioned with Vernon years ago, but until this past fall, I still thought my son was halfway decent. Or at least, I thought that if I could get him away from his father I could change him. I was wrong. They're both wizard-haters, the same type of people that would have burned us all –excluding Arabella- at the stake several hundred years ago. I knew that if I acted any other way toward you that Vernon would leave me and take Dudley with him. Even though my son was not the kindest of people, he was still my son." She finished almost tearfully. For some reason, the trio actually felt compelled to believe her, though they were not sure if she were crying over the loss of her son or over the regret she held for the way she had shamed the name of wizard over the past sixteen years. None of the teenagers dared ask her though. Mrs. Figg didn't seem to have any such qualms.

"Now Petunia, I've known you since you were born and I saw what you were, what you became, and what you are returning to, but there's one thing I can't figure out. Are those tears for your son or for your nephew?"

Petunia dried her eyes with a handkerchief and answered. "I had all winter and spring to cry for my son. These tears are for Harry and for Lily and for my mother and father, all of whom I have betrayed and or disgraced by my behavior. I acted like the very sort of muggle that You-Know-Who tries to make a stereo-type of: worthless, cowardly, ignorant, and cruel." Harry was so shocked, he didn't think he could have said a word if his life depended on it. Ron was wearing that look of his, the one of perpetual and complete confusion. Hermione almost looked impressed. Mrs. Figg just smiled very slightly, clearly proud of the repentant witch's answer.

Just in time to head off the impending silence that would indubitably have been quite awkward, the sound of the doorbell was heard, followed by a knock on the door. Petunia got up again and went to the door. When she opened it, she gasped in shock. None of the people in the parlor could see who the visitor was but were all very eager to find out. There question was very soon answered as Petunia pulled the person into the front hall –this was obvious because the trio could now see a second shadow, standing next to Harry's aunt's- and slammed the door before rounding on who ever the other person was and beginning to give a yelling lecture that could nearly match one of Molly Weaseley's. "ROSANNE ELIZABETH EVANS, WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN FOR THE PAST SEVENTEEN YEARS?" There was the slightest of pauses as Petunia drew in another breath. "YOU JUST UP AND VANISHED ONE NIGHT, LEAVING US ALL WORRIED THAT YOU HAD BEEN CAPTURED, OR WORSE _KILLED_! GRANDFATHER ACTUALLY THOUGHT –AND NEARLY CONVINCED US ALL- THAT YOU'D TURNED TRAITOR AND JOINED YOU- KNOW-WHO LIKE THAT HUSBAND OF YOURS! MOTHER WAS CONVINCED THAT DEATHEATERS HAD KILLED YOU! LILY OF COURSE BLAMED HERSELF, HAVING THE HERO-COMPLEX SHE DID, AND KEPT GOING ON ABOUT HOW IF SHE HAD JUST GONE INTO HIDING EARLIER, NONE OF IT WOULD HAVE HAPPENED! FATHER NEARLY HAD A HEART ATTACK WHEN YOU WENT MISSING!" Apparently, Petunia was just to upset to go on because she just grabbed the other woman's arm and dragged her into the parlor where everyone else stared at her as Petunia pushed her into one of the seats.

If Harry had thought Aunt Petunia resembled his mother, this woman, in comparison, could have been her twin but for the fact that her eyes were blue, not green. In addition to looking like his mother, Rosanne also looked a bit startlingly like Melanie had in his dreams with fiery red hair and bright royal blue eyes. Rosanne was a witch as well, judging from her clothing, which consisted of a deep lavender robe and a darker, plum colored cloak. Looking between her face and Petunia's, Rosanne seemed to be the younger one. No one said a word for a very long time. Then at last, the stranger found her tongue.

"I'm sorry Petunia, but my husband defected and for reasons I couldn't understand and he wouldn't tell me, You-Know-Who wanted him dead and we had to go into hiding. I didn't think you'd want to see me after I came out of hiding and heard that you'd disowned Lily. When I got the news from Blaire that you finally divorced that muggle, I knew I couldn't stay away from home any longer." When she finished, Rosanne looked up at her older sister, a pleading expression on her face. Petunia had calmed down during the course of the speech and finally joy overcame anger and she immediately pulled the younger woman into a tight embrace. When she let go, she turned to Harry and introduced the other woman formally as his Aunt Rose.

After staring at Harry for a moment, without once looking at his scar, Rose said something Harry had never, ever heard any one say before. "You look _exactly_ like your mother. Except the hair, of course."

"Thank you, m'am," Harry said sincerely.

"You're welcome, Harry," she said with a little laugh, "but please don't call me m'am. Just call me Aunt Rose, or Aunt Rosanne if you feel like being formal.

"Okay," he said, his tongue tripping over the new name, "Aunt Rose." Both his aunts were smiling, as was Mrs. Figg. The aforementioned squib however had to leave because it was time for her to feed her cats. That left Harry, Hermione, Ron, Petunia, and Rose.

"Er, Aunt Petunia," Harry said hesitantly, "I would have told you earlier, but didn't really get the chance, with you and Aunt Rose having to do so much story telling and explaining, but there actually is a particular reason I came to visit you this afternoon."

Petunia looked at him for a moment and then said with resignation, "I suppose you won't be coming back here again." She actually sounded sad. "I remember the letter that Professor Dumbledore left me the night he brought you here. It said that the magic protecting you here will only last until you're a legal adult in the magical world. You would only be protected for another month." The second half of her comment answered the question he hadn't been given the opportunity to ask.

"Because your friends are here too, I take it you're not staying at all," Rose said with great disappointment. Harry nodded. There was a long awkward silence as the trio watched Petunia wordlessly leave the room and heard her climbing the staircase before disappearing up to the attic. "You'll write to us, won't you Harry," Rose asked. It was apparent that she both had no idea of Harry's former hatred of her older sister and very much wanted him to say yes. Harry thought about it for a while. He actually was beginning to like this new Aunt Petunia and he just had a feeling that he would come to like Aunt Rose a great deal. He had never had a family to write to. Now he had two aunts. It would be odd. But it was something he had always wanted. Looking back at her, he made up his mind.

"Of course I'll write to you, Aunt Rose," he promised. Just then he heard the creak on the stair that he had always had to avoid when sneaking out of the house. Aunt Petunia, it appeared, had returned from the attic. In her hands, she held two wooden boxes. One was long and thin. The other was a much shorter, somewhat wider, square box.

Coming to stand in front of Harry, she said plainly, but with great difficulty, "These belonged to your mother. The ministry sent them to me after- after she- after she was killed. She would have wanted you to have them." Awkwardly, like a puppet, she thrust the boxes into Harry's hands with tears in her eyes. Shocked –though he shouldn't have been, after the rest of the afternoon's revelations- that his aunt was crying over his mother, Harry could do nothing but stammer a shaky thank-you. Drying her eyes with the handkerchief again –which, Harry realized, bore the monogram P.M.E., his aunt's initials- and then, glancing at her watch, announced that it was almost dinner time and that they should probably be going home.

Petunia and Rose stood on the sidewalk with the three teenagers as they waited for the Knight Bus, which Harry had called a moment ago. When it arrived with its usual bang, Petunia remarked, "I've always thought that was a ridiculous color to paint a bus. I'd forgotten how ghastly it looked." Realizing that this was just a comment to herself, Ron and Hermione boarded the bus. Harry was surprised when Rose flung her arms around him and told him to take care of himself and not to forget to write. He assured her that he would do the best he could to look out for his own wellbeing and promised once again to write to both his aunts. Then to his further surprise, Petunia also gave him a hag and then he was shooed onto the bus, which promptly hurtled in the direction of the Burrow.

After walking up the road to the Burrow, where they ate dinner, the trio plus Ginny flooed to Grimwald place. Dusting themselves off, the quartet walked from the foyer to what they called the den, and sat down in a circle on the floor. "Well," demanded Ginny, who had been told the whole story over dinner, "what's in the boxes?"

"I don't know," Harry answered. "Actually, I'm pretty sure I know what's in this one," he amended, picking up the long thin box, "but as for the other one, I haven't got the foggiest."

"Go ahead and open them already Harry," Hermione insisted, unusually impatient. It really drove her crazy when someone knew something she didn't and at the moment Harry knew the contents of the box, where as she did not. +

"Yah, what are you waiting for?" Ron added, "It's not like the ministry is allowed to curse anything that they're sending to a house with two muggles living in it."

"Alright, alright," Harry surrendered. Opening the long, thin box, Harry proved himself correct when he pulled back the green velvet material that covered the object. It was a wand. Ten and a quarter inches long and made of willow. It was his mother's wand. Harry suddenly felt a surge of happiness. All his life he had been told that he looked exactly like his father except for his eyes and over his years at Hogwarts, he had seen and acquired several things that belonged to his father: the pictures, the cloak, the map. But he had never had anything of his mother's. Until now.

He didn't have time to ponder this for very much longer because several seconds later, there was a crash behind him and he jumped up and spun around to face the source of the noise. The scene they were met with would actually have been quite amusing, had the building not supposedly been unplottable. A man with long dark hair had just come tumbling out of the fire place and crashed right in to the chair directly in front of it, and had then been knocked to the ground, where he landed in a heap.

"Damn it," the man coughed as he pulled himself up from the floor, "when the hell did they rearrange the furniture?" Once he was standing, they could see that he was fairly tall and well built with long dark hair. His cloths and in fact his entire person were covered in a thick layer of soot. That _particular_ fire place hadn't been used in decades. "_Damn_, these were good robes," he muttered, seemingly unaware that he had an audience, "Bloody floo system. I just had to get off at _that_ grate instead of the one we normally used. I knew I should have used the foyer grate." Suddenly his voice went from a mildly annoyed mutter to a very aggravated shout, "Kreacher! You worthless excuse for a house elf! Get down here!" While waiting for the house elf to appear, the man –still focused completely on himself- used a cleaning charm to remove all the soot. His robes were indeed good ones, a dark blue color and a lightweight material tailored perfectly to fit him. After he finished straightening himself out, he yelled once more, "Kreacher, get_ down_ here!"

And then he looked up and saw four people, all of whom had their wands trained on him. None of them realized this of course. They had done it instinctively, not consciously. And that fact aside, they were all too transfixed with the man himself to view him as a threat. His features were startlingly familiar, though not as haggard or tired as the four remembered. His blue eyes were exactly the same color as his robes. Later, when the five were asked, no one was able to say who had been more surprised, him, or them. Finally after what seemed like forever, Harry voiced the name that the other three dared not even hope belonged to the man.

"Sirius?"

**Yes, I'm quite afraid that really is the end of the chapter, but I already have the next chapter written for the most part, so you won't be in suspense for too long, providing I actually get a decent number of reviews for this chapter. Things to ponder: Where was Rose? Who was (or perhaps it's is) her husband? Did anyone notice the Ravenclaw theme in this story? What will Harry's reaction to the last scene be? Is it odd that Rose said that Harry looked exactly like Lily? Who is Blaire? And what is Terrence Evans real last name? Anybody know what's in the other box? Anybody have a clue as to what Melanie's riddle means? If any one decides to ponder these things, it would be incredibly useful if you were to put your conclusions in a review.**


	5. Chapter 5: An Unexpected Guest

**Author's Note: Here is the answer to my evil cliffhanger. Not much to say this time. This chapter is dedicated to JiyuHotellKodai for being the only one to answer a question correctly. Congrats for figuring out who Rose's husband _is. _R&R.**

Chapter Five- An Unexpected Guest:

"Sirius?"

The man stared at Harry for a moment and then stuttered "I- I-". Just then, Hermione noticed something and gave Harry's sleeve a tug to get his attention. He barely noticed. He was too busy staring at a man who was supposed to be dead.

"Harry," Hermione said, pulling on his sleeve, "oh, Harry, look at the clock." Having absolutely no idea what she was talking about, he looked at her blankly. "The clock on the mantle, Harry," she pointed out, "the one that tells where everyone is instead of telling time." He looked up at the clock and read each of the hands. Some of the people were people none of them knew. Harry, Hermione, and Ron were shown as 'Home'. Ted (Andromeda's husband), Nymphadora, Narcissa, and two other women named Rosanne and Rachel were shown as at 'Other Residence', meaning they were at home, but didn't live at Grimwald Place. Andromeda's and Ginny's hands pointed at 'Friend's House'. Someone named Kassandra was shown as being at 'Relative's House'. Someone named Rigel was shown as at 'School'. Lucius Malfoy's and Rodolphus Lestrange's hands were both pointing to 'Trouble' because both of them had been thrown in Azkaban, yet again. Draco's hand had moved from 'Mortal Peril' to 'Danger'. Apparently Voldemort had decided _not_ to kill the boy. Bellatrix's hand pointed to 'Unknown'. Remus' hand pointed to 'Traveling'. Sirius' hand was still pointing to 'Lost' as it had been since he died. Then Harry noticed that there was a fourth hand pointed at 'Home'. One that was labeled 'Regulus'.

Harry's heart fell. Before anyone else could say anything, the portrait of Mrs. Black that hung in the hallway burst into shouting, "My son! My son has come home to me at last! No more blood traitors, half-breeds, or mudbloods in the Noble House of Black. My _good_ son has returned to me and will rid the house of all those filthy, undeserving, excuses for wizards."

Regulus shook his head and said forlornly, "I'd hoped she would've been gone by now." Then he walked past the children into the hallway.

Upon seeing him, Mrs. Black exclaimed, "Regulus!"

"Hello Mother," he answered sullenly.

"I thought both my sons were dead, but my good son has beenreturned to me!" To the shock of the quartet, she actually sounded quite overjoyed.

"Yes, I came back, but you don't need to sound so happy," he said bitterly, "because I'm not kicking _anyone_ out of this house. And get straight: I'm not your 'good' son. Sirius was the good one. I was the fuck up. You're just too insane to see it. So just shut up." He hadn't yelled, he hadn't even raised his voice, but his tone was furious.

"What?" Mrs. Black was shocked at her younger son's show of disrespect. "Don't you talk to me like that, young man-"

"I'll talk to you however the hell I bloody well please, you old hag!" _Now_ he was yelling. "You're dead. You have no say over this family or this house. By the way, _I'm_ not the head of the family, if you recall. _Sirius'_ godson is. And I'm glad. I just wish I could have been here when my brother was still head of the family, what's left of it anyway. Maybe the two of together could have gotten the message across to you: Your days of prejudice and bigotry are over. Your influence over any one in this house is nonexistent. Give _up_, woman, and just accept the facts. You. Are. Dead. And good riddance." When Regulus stopped yelling, something happened that was practically a miracle, something that anyone who had ever even visited Grimwald Place while it was still Order headquarters would have paid a fortune to see.

Mrs. Black actually shut up. She just stared at Regulus, absolutely speechless. With a triumphant look on his face, Regulus easily pulled the curtains closed and cast a very strong sealing spell so that Mrs. Black could not will them back open. There was a very unexpected, very heavy silence for some time, that is, until Hermione finally composed herself.

"So," She asked, just to confirm it beyond a shadow of a doubt, "You're Sirius' brother?"

"Er, yah," the man answered uncomfortably, looking at the floor. "That would be the reason I was able to find this house. As for you all, I'm guessing, though I'm not positive, that my brother was living here until he- well, I'm guessing he was living here. I'm also guessing that you four know how to get here because you came to visit him."

"_Well,_ you guessed right," Harry replied, "but how do we know we can trust you? You're a deatheater." Regulus smiled, almost smirking, and his eyes took on a mischievous glint that reminded the quartet of Fred and George (or on occasion Gred and Forge) right before they pulled one of their pranks. Harry imagined that Sirius must have worn a similar expression whenever he went on one of his 'expeditions' with the other Marauders.

"_Was _a deatheater, _was_, but I defected."

"Wait a minute, Ginny interrupted. "You're right. Sirius told us you defected. But you're supposed to be dead. After you defected, you were supposedly killed by Voldemort's loyal deatheaters."

"Again, _supposedly_. They did try. Merlin, if it had been a NEWTs or OWLs exam, I would have given them an O for effort. They managed to beat the hell out of m. I was so bloody and battered that they just assumed that I'd die soon from blood loss and that they'd done their job of hurrying my death along. So, the idiots that they thankfully were left me in an alley in muggle London to die. But I had healing potions with me. I was expecting to be attacked, you see, and-"

"Actually, I don't see," Hermione cut in quite sharply. "Why would you expect to be attacked? In fact, why did the even attack you to begin with? Plenty of other people defected and Voldemort might have been furious, but he never sent out an entire hit squad after any of them." She looked at him pointedly, in what Ron had termed her McGonagall impression, waiting for an answer.

"They weren't sent to kill me. There was no need for it. They all assumed I would die within several days of my defection. If the idiots, or even the Dark Lord for that matter, had actually thought about it for longer than five seconds, they would have realized that I should by all rights have died with in precisely forty-eight hours."

"Then why did they attack you?" This time, Ron was the one with a question. All this time, the gears in Harry's brain had slowly been piecing things together, and with Regulus' next answer, the last piece fell into place.

"Because they were looking for something. I had stolen something from the Dark Lord and he wasn't too pleased about it to say the-"

"Regulus Augustus Black!" Harry exclaimed this in a booming voice, effectively silencing everyone else in the kitchen (They had all moved into that room during the interrogation). "Your name is Regulus Augustus Black. Your initials are R.A.B. They were looking for the locket." Everyone else stared at the Boy-Who-Lived. Neither Ron nor Ginny believed that Harry could be right. If he were, then Regulus should be dead like Dumbledore. Hermione _did_ believe him, but was stunned that Harry had figured out who R.A.B. was before she did. Regulus himself was just shocked that anyone even knew of the locket's existence, let alone the fact that it had been stolen, not to mention the tiny detail that it had been he who had done so.

"How do you even know the locket exists," Regulus asked Harry, almost afraid of the expression on the boy's face.

"Because of _this_," Harry spat, pulling something out of his robe pocket and hurling it down on the table. When the object hit the table, it opened and a slip of paper fell out. Regulus stared at the two items on the table. One was the fake locket and the other was the note he had left for the Dark Lord.

All he could choke out was, "Who had to die for you to get that?" His voice was filled with guilt. He had killed enough people as a Deatheater. He didn't need anyone else's blood on his hands.

With a look of pure hatred and in a voice that was deathly cold, Harry answered, "Albus Dumbledore." Several emotions flashed across the man's face as he heard this. First and foremost, there was fear. To him, Harry seemed eerily like the Dark Lord at the moment. Regulus would even have sworn under Veritaserum that he saw the boy's eyes glint with red. Then Harry's fury seemed to all but vanish as he fixed Regulus with a piercing stare, waiting for some kind of response. This too reminded Regulus of the Dark Lord, but it merely kept him extremely cautious instead of making him fear for his life. Thus, the second emotion to flash across his face was shock, before his expression settled on quilt. He did not say a word, much to Harry's vexation.

Harry didn't know what had changed about him a moment ago that was enough to frighten a grown wizard so much, but he did know he had been picturing Voldemort at the time. Figuring that somehow his visualization had induced Regulus' fear, and deciding that fear was the most effective way to get answers, Harry focused on the actual bond between himself and Voldemort. He pictured the Dark Lord at his most manipulative, controlling, and terrifying. Then he pulled all that he associated with the image toward himself as if it were a physical object. He had no idea that his eyes had turned completely red, however, he was not the least bit surprised at the cold, almost mocking tone his voice had suddenly taken on or at the fact that his voice had become almost a hiss. "Tell me then, Regulusss," he commanded, "_Why_ aren't you dead?" His three friends eyed him quite nervously, especially Ginny, all of them frightened that he might be possessed. They had no way of knowing that Harry had called up this strange variety of a glamour spell himself. It was after all a question Voldemort would very much have liked to know the answer to. The temperature in the room had dropped at least ten degrees. What frightened them the most though, was that his eyes were fully red and his aura was radiating hatred and darkness. Regulus, both out of instinct and out of shock was terrified half out of his wits. If this was Harry and he didn't answer, he'd probably somehow end up in Azkaban; but if this was the Dark Lord speaking through Harry and he told the truth, he would probably end up dead.

Realizing, finally, that he had cast quite a powerful glamour on himself and that the glamour made him resemble Voldemort, Harry decided to use the illusion for all it was worth. He ignored the gasps of his friends as he quite consciously and purposely imitated the Dark Lord's voice. His tone was flawless, if he hadn't been so caught up in the act, he might have actually scared himself. "Do I have to curse you, Regulus," Harry hissed, drawing his wand. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a part of him both amazed and repulsed by how perfect his act was. Somewhere more towards the forefront of his brain, a larger part of him opted once more to use the fear card, this time in the form of threat of torture. "I'm quite capable of using the Cruciatus," he half-lied. The so called bluff worked –no pun intended- like a charm.

Regulus began spilling out the words of an explanation. "Because, I didn't drink the potion. The Dark Lord's wife, Melanie Duval did. She told me I was too young to die, but that she had nothing left to live for." His voice trembled and shook. His face had gone white as paper. He prayed Harry was not possessed.

Harry, on the other hand, who had maintained the semi-glamour throughout the entire explanation and who –though he hadn't known it- hadn't been half-lying, but telling the complete truth- was so shocked by the second sentence that by the time the former deatheater had finished speaking, he could no longer hold the façade. Abruptly the illusion fell, leaving only a shell shocked, sixteen-year-old boy. "She was his _wife_?" Harry asked in a weak, almost hurt tome. He couldn't explain it, but for some reason, knowing that Melanie had been Tom Riddle's wife and knowing that she was dead, by her own choice, because of her husband's evil deeds brought down a torrent of anguish, regret, and inexplicably, guilt.

"How did she know that whoever drank the potion would die," Harry asked.

But he never got to hear Ginny exclaim that she now remembered that Melanie had been a famed Potions Mistress. He never heard Regulus answer that she had invented the potion. He never heard Ron ask why she would invent something like that. And he certainly didn't hear Hermione call his name in concern as his world lost focus and he slid off the chair onto the cold tile floor. He was long gone by then. He had blacked out and was now seeing an influx of memories. Hundreds, maybe thousands of them flashed through his mind. They ranged from the very earliest memories of being a toddler to being a sixth year at Hogwarts. He recognized them all, understood them all. But none of them belonged to Harry Potter.

**This was where chapter four was supposed to have ended, but then I added all the stuff about Rose and then I couldn't resist stopping with Harry whispering his godfather's name. It was such a perfect cliffhanger –I'd never managed a good cliffhanger before- so I decided to make this a separate chapter. Tell me what you think. Disappointed that it wasn't really Sirius? Or did you figure it wasn't him? Did any one see it coming that Melanie was Tom (Voldemort)'s wife? (Please, somebody say they caught that from the dream Harry had of Tom giving Melanie the locket.) Does anyone notice any other characters in the story that look like Melanie? If so, try to answer these questions: Who is this other person related to? What was Heather Evans' maiden name? (Hint: Juliet Ravencal was Harry's great grandmother, she was the heir of Ravenclaw, and Melanie Duval is the ghost of Ravenclaw.) Are there any characters (alive or dead) that have the most attention-grabbing features of either Tom or Melanie? (I.e. Melanie's bright red hair, Tom's emerald green eyes) Petunia said she can't remember if her aunt married a half-blood or a muggleborn, which was it? Is Harry really a pureblood (that means no muggles in the family for at least five generations.)? And once more, what is in the other box? Now onto the difficult question: Think about Melanie's riddle, the first two lines only, and consider that she had a connection to Tom, and that Harry's first vision/dream from Tom's life was of Tom, at the orphanage (where he was born), on the day that he first discovered the world of magic. Does that help solve a little of it? I would absolutely love it if some of my reviewers tried to figure out the first two lines and tell me the general location of the urn. If anyone gets the first two lines right, I'll give another clue in the author's note of the next chapter. Let us see if someone can figure it out before Hermione. ( : **


	6. Chapter 6: Diary Memories

**Author's Note: This chapter is focused entirely on the memories that Harry is seeing, so it's focused on Tom and there's no mention of Harry what so ever. It's narrated just like his dreams were. There are a few characters I want to point out because they've already shown up in the story: Drusilla McNair (not my character. She belongs to JKR, but I have taken the liberty of inventing her first and maiden names) and Melanie's twin sister. As for who is in Tom's year, I estimated and put in people who seemed to be reasonably close to his age. Also, Marius says he's ten and that he'll be going to Hogwarts in the fall. He says this because it is May and he is turning eleven in two weeks. Tom is nine and his birthday is July 31, at midnight, just like Harry. Oh yeah, and as for why Tom speaks as if he's older than he is, it's because he's a sort of Matilda character. He's really smart and has read every book, magazine, or newspaper he can get his hands on. I think that's all. R&R.**

Chapter Six- Diary Memories:

(The day after Tom and Marius first become friends)

"So," asked Tom from where he was stretched out on the wall, "What's it like?"

"What?" Marius asked, "Being a wizard?"

"No. Having a family."

"Oh." The blond boy was quiet for a second as he thought about the question. "Actually, I don't really know how to describe it. I've never _not_ had a family."

"Oh," said Tom, echoing the other boy's response.

"But I do know what it's like to loose a family member," Marius admitted after a while. "I have- had an older brother. Four years ago, when he was as old as I am now, which is ten, he was kidnapped by –I think this is the word my father used, but I'm not sure what it means- 'vigilante'-"

"It means somebody who takes justice into their own hands," Tom interrupted politely.

"Thanks. Well, he was kidnapped by vigilante Aurors-"

"Vigilante whats?"

"Aurors- they fight dark wizards," the pureblood explained to the boy who was only today truly beginning his 'life of magic and fantasy'. "Anyway, they kidnapped him because they thought that my father was a dark wizard, but he's not."

"I didn't think he would be," Tom said, surprising the other boy, "You're nice and I don't think you'd be nice if your father was really dark and evil."

"Thanks," said Marius very genuinely.

"For what," the emerald-eyed boy asked, confused.

"Nevermind." The blond haired wizard didn't seem to feel very comfortable explaining.

"Okay. What was your brother's name? You don't have to tell me," he added, "if you don't feel like talking about it."

"No, it's fine," Marius assured him. Actually, he liked the idea of having someone around his own age- Tom was a year younger than him- with whom he could talk about this sort of thing. "His name was Octavian, but he didn't like it. He claimed that nobody should have a name that you can't make a nickname out of that's not a stupid one. My parents called him Tave for short. He thought it was stupid. His friends and I called him Terry, because his middle name was Terrence."

"Octavian Terrence Malfoy?" Tom repeated the boy's name in disbelief. Then suddenly he burst out laughing, he just couldn't help it.

"Yah. What? Why are you laughing?"

"How can you have a name as strange as Octavian Malfoy and a middle name as normal as Terrence?"

"There is _nothing_ strange about the name Malfoy," Marius declared indigently.

"There is to me," Tom snickered. "_My_ name is just plain old Tom Riddle. Tom, not even Thomas." He neglected to mention that while his first and last names were as normal as Tom Riddle, his middle name was as strange as Marvolo. "I'm named after my father and his father, I think." The words, 'I think,' were spoken with less certainty than the rest of the sentence. Marius suddenly started staring at him incredulously.

"You can't possibly be talking about Tom Riddle Jr. and Sr., those stuck up, rich muggles who live at the end of the road, at the top of the hill?"

"What?" Tom looked shell-shocked. His father was alive?

"You didn't know? Oh." Marius was suddenly staring at the ground with a very odd expression on his face. When he looked up at Tom, he still wore that expression.

"What are you looking at me like that for? You don't care, do you, that I'm a- a-" Tom could barely bring himself to say the word the other boy had used earlier when talking about wizards with muggle parents. "A mudblood?" He stared up at the blond-haired boy nervously, terrified that his first and only friend, who just happened to be a pureblood, would hate him.

"I don't think you _are_ a mudblood, Tom, but even if you were, I'd still be your friend. Your one of the only friends I've ever had who hasn't just liked me because my family is rich." The last sentence was more of a confession on his own behalf than a reassurance for Tom. The first two sentences filled Tom with relief. He was glad that he wasn't a mudblood, and especially happy that, as he had been informed yesterday, he was not a muggle, because he knew that Marius wouldn't have befriended him if he were a muggle. Not because the other boy wouldn't have _wanted_ to be Tom's friend, but because he wouldn't have been allowed to be.

"You think I'm a halfblood then," Tom asked, once more in good spirits, as well as very eager to hear whatever his friend might know about his parents.

"I think so, yes," replied Marius. "I think I might even know who your mother was. You said she died giving birth to you, but do know anything about her?"

Tom shook his head. "Nope. I don't even know her name. The only thing I have that belonged to either of my parents is a locket. I've only seen it once. It's heavy and made of gold and it has two S's that look like snakes engraved on the front and it hangs on a thin chain which is made out of gold too." Suddenly, Tom's voice became resentful. "The matron says 'I'm too little to have something so special yet.' I know the stupid, mean, old bat just keeps it locked up because she wants it for herself since it's made of real gold and gold is valuable." He brooded silently for a time before returning to his excited mood. "So, does that help at all? Do know who my mum was?"

'Do I _know_?' Marius thought to himself, 'Of course I know. Every pureblood within a twenty mile radius of this town knows about the Gaunts and the Gaunt-Riddle disaster.' Out loud he only said, "Yes, I'm pretty sure that your mum was a pureblood witch named Merope Gaunt."

"If her name was Merope Gaunt, how-come the locket says 'SS'?"

"Because the locket wasn't made for her. It was made for one of her ancestors, named Serina. Serina was Salazar Slytherin's daughter." Marius gave the younger boy a moment to absorb the information. There was a silence as Tom tried to remember why Serina's name and her father's name sounded so familiar.

"Wait a minute," he exclaimed, climbing into a sitting position, "Wasn't Salazar Slytherin one of the four founders of the school you're going to in the fall and I'm going to start at next year?" Marius nodded. "And he was the one who could talk to snakes." Tom asked for verification. Marius nodded again. "Well _that_ explains it," the emerald-eyed boy mused.

"Explains what," Marius inquired, very confused by the seemingly random statement.

"Explains why I can understand Nagini's whining and complaining about her thirteen brothers and sisters all day long."

"Nagini?" Marius raised an eyebrow, now more perplexed than before. "Who's Nagini?"

Tom turned a little bit so that he was looking at the small flowerbed against the back of the orphanage and said, "She is." Marius at first didn't get it and so looked around, expecting to see a person and then realized that Tom had said that Salazar Slytherin's descendents having the ability to talk to _snakes_ explained why he could understand Nagini; And that's when the ten year old wizard saw the tiny green snake who was curled up among the flowers.

"You're a parslemouth," Marius stated, a little in awe. He had heard rumors that all the Gaunts in the past few generations had been parslemouths, but he'd never known for sure that it was true. "Go on, say something in parlsetongue," he urged.

"What's a parslemouth and what's parlsetongue? They're magic, well wizard words, aren't they?"

"Parslemouths are people like you who can understand and talk to snakes in Parseltongue, snake language," Marius patiently explained.

"And you want me to say something in Parsletongue?" Tom sounded a reluctant.

"Please, Tom? I've never seen anyone talk to a snake before. It would be so neat."

"Okay," Tom agreed, "er… what do you want me to say?"

"Anything you want. Just think about what it's like talking to Nagini and say something the same way," the other boy replied.

"_Like what? I can't think of anything and I feel stupid,"_ Tom complained. He looked up and was surprised to see that his friend was staring at him in awe and admiration.

"Wow, that was brilliant," Marius declared before asking eagerly, "What did you say?"

"Huh? You heard what I said. I said it in plain English. I might be able to understand snakes and all the snakes in Britain understand English –Nagini's family even knows a little Welsh- but I can't speak snake language4."

"You can too speak snake language," Marius differed, "You sounded just like a snake when you said… well, whatever it was you just said. I swear, it definitely wasn't plain English. So what _did_ you say?"

"I said that I felt stupid and couldn't think of anything to say," Tom answered, this time in English.

"It must be awesome to be able to speak parsletongue if you can call yourself stupid and not sound at all embarrassed." Suddenly there was a hiss from the flower bed.

"Shut up, Nagini," Tom said, speaking in English, just to annoy her.

"What did she say?" Marius asked, full of curiosity.

"She snickered and said I _sounded_ stupid, even though I didn't sound embarrassed, for talking in her language to a human who wasn't a- a- I think, in English, the word is 'speaker' which must mean parselmouth," Tom explained.

"Well it wasn't stupid really, it's not like you knew that you were doing it," the grey-eyed boy offered. Nagini chose this moment to slither over to the wall and to the top of it via a vine, before she wrapped herself around Tom's arm. Seeing the snake up close, Marius could tell Nagini was not the average garden snake. "Tom, do you happen to know what type of snake Nagini is?"

"Yah. She once told me she was a royal Indian cobra. But before you ask, I have no earthly idea who she and her family got all the way from Asia to Britain, and neither does she."

Once more, the other boy was awed. "A real, baby, royal Indian cobra. Tom, do you know how _rare_ those are?"

"Yes, I do. And Nagini is highly offended that you called her a baby. She wants me to inform you that she is two years old and that her species stop being considered babies by other snakes and speak- parselmouths after the age of six months. Just thought I should pass that along," Tom interpreted.

"Well, I'm sorry, Nagini," Marius responded sincerely, though he did feel distinctly strange apologizing to a snake. "I didn't know how old you were. I'll make sure not to call you a baby again." Then he looked at the parselmouth who held the snake he had just apologized to and asked, "She could understand me, right?" Nagini let out a long series of hisses which, Marius assumed, were some kind of reply.

"Yes," the younger boy answered, "She says she accepts your apology. She would also like you to know that she respects you for apologizing. Most humans who aren't parselmouths don't show enough respect to snakes to actually address them directly."

By now the bell had rung and Tom had to go back inside. "Bye Marius," he said, as he jumped sown from the wall, "see you tomorrow."

"Of course, then I can tell you about your mother. Oh, and, Nagini, you're welcome to come too."

"I'll be here at ten tomorrow morning then," Tom agreed as he let Nagini slither back into the garden.

(September first, the following fall)

"Well, are you ready to go," Marius asked the younger boy, who would be attending Hogwarts as a first year. Because the boy was an orphan and had no one to bring him to platform nine and three quarters, Abraxus Malfoy had offered to take him, since he had to drop Marius off to begin with.

"Yes," the excited emerald-eyed eleven-year-old replied, "I have everything packed. All my supplies and books –which I made sure I read at least twice each- and of course, Nagini." He held up his arm to show the snake wrapped around it. For a moment a look of worry crossed Tom's face. "You don't think they'll make me get rid of her, do you? Snakes aren't on the list of pets that we're allowed to bring."

"Of course they won't make you get rid of her. Professor Slughorn won't mind at all," the second year Slytherin reassured his nervous friend.

"Professor Slughorn, maybe, but what if I'm not sorted into Slytherin? From what you've told me, Professor Ravencall and Professor Dumbledore wouldn't really like her." At this, Marius burst out laughing.

"Tom, you don't need to worry about what the head of Ravenclaw thinks of Nagini, and you _certainly_ don't need to worry about what the head of _Gryffindor_ thinks of her. You're definitely going to be sorted into Slytherin," he stated in a confident manner.

"But how can you be _sure _about that," the raven-haired boy questioned in a tone that bordered on whining.

"Tom," the blond said slowly, so that his friend would get the point, "you are _descended_ from Salazar Slytherin. There is absolutely no way that you _won't _be in the same house as me."

"If you say so," Tom said with a sigh. He still wasn't sure if he believed that Marius was correct. Then suddenly he remembered something and his mood improved drastically. "Marius, guess what!"

"What?"

"I got the-" He lowered his voice so that Abraxus and Isis wouldn't hear him. "I got the locket from the matron's room. I'll show it to you on the train. It's beautiful. Inside there's even a picture. I think it's of my mother." Marius' eyes lit up. He and Tom had been conspiring for an entire year to get the bloody locket back from the matron. Now Tom had gone and done it on his own without even telling Marius when or how he had planned to do it.

"You actually got it? How, and why didn't you send me an owl?"

"I'll tell you how I got it once we're in the train." Then, without warning, Tom smacked the older boy in the back of the head.

"Hey!" Marius straightened out his hair before demanding, "What in Merlin's name was that for?"

"That was for asking a stupid question," the younger boy replied quiet seriously. "I don't like it when people ask stupid questions." Then he went on to elaborate. "You realize, don't you, that I don't have an owl and that Aquila was at school with you, so unless you owled me first, then I couldn't have owled you."

"Right," the older boy muttered.

Half an hour later, the two boys were settled in their compartment on the Hogwarts Express. They had a compartment to themselves because Marius was making a point of avoiding Drusilla McNair, who was convinced that she would one day marry him. Unbeknownst to her and much to the relief of Marius, the Malfoy heir was already betrothed to a girl named Ariana Zabini. Unfortunately, his attempt to avoid the overly persistent, overly prejudiced girl were not to be successful, because the train was not more that fifteen minutes out of the station, when the door to their compartment opened and she stepped in.

"There you are Marius," she said theatrically, "I've been looking everywhere for you. Why aren't you in the usual compartment with the rest of us?" Then she saw the emerald-eyed, raven-haired soon-to-be first year sitting across from Marius. She studied Tom and he studied her in return. She wasn't bad looking, but she wasn't overly pretty either. She had long, slightly wavy, dark brown hair and her eyes were light blue.

"Oh, you were lending a hand to a new first year." She suddenly addressed Tom in a very condescending manner, with her hands on her hips. "Well, what's your name and what house do you think you'll be in?"

Tom didn't like her tone of voice, but in an attempt to be polite, he answered her anyway. "My name is Tom Riddle and I'm not sure what house I'll be in. I hope I'll be put in Slytherin but I think I could deal with being put in another house, as long as it's not Hufflepuff. That would be downright humiliating."

"Riddle," the girl repeated, "I've never heard of that name before. You must be a mudblood then." She spoke with such nonchalance, but the term she had used still cut Tom acutely. First he felt ashamed, but then his thoughts went to the locket in his trunk and to his mother, to Salazar Slytherin, and then he became furious. Like a shot, he was on his feet and had his wand aimed at the girl.

"Would you like to say that again, McNair," he asked threateningly. Drusilla just threw her head back and laughed at him.

"Sure. I'll say it again," she goaded. "You're a mudblood. Oh, put your wand down, Riddle. What are you going to do with it, poke me in the eye? You probably don't know a single charm."

He glared up at the second year. "You'll apologize. Now. For your information, I'm from the Gaunt family, but due to _certain_ facts about my uncle and grandfather, as well as the death of both of my parents before I was even a week old," –Tom decided to lie and give her the impression that his father had been a wizard too and that Riddle was just the name the orphanage had given him- "I grew up in a muggle orphanage. But because of my mother's family, I am descended from Salazar Slytherin, the founder of your house. My blood is ten times as pure as yours!" He paused a moment and reigned in his temper, knowing it would only get him in trouble. "Also," he continued in a calmer, but far more menacing voice, "I probably know more spells than you do, but because it's not polite to hex a lady, especially if she doesn't have her wand out, I won't do anything to you." He sneered as he said the word lady, implying that he was using the term _extremely_ lightly. He lowered his wand halfway to show that he was serious about not hexing her without further provocation, but refrained from lowering it completely, just in case she pulled out her own wand and tried to hex him.

"If you're not going to hex me, which I doubt you can actually do, what's stopping me from calling you a mudblood? You might be related to the Gaunts, but you wouldn't have been left at a muggle orphanage unless you were part muggle, so you still have tainted blood," Drusilla sneered down at him. A strange expression came over Tom's face and he lowered his wand. Marius saw the malicious glint in the other boy's eyes and realized what he planned to do.

"You shouldn't have said that, McNair," the blond boy warned.

"Oh, why not, Marius," Drusilla asked, her sneer momentarily lessening in intensity as she addressed the pureblood. "He already said he's not going to hex me. What is he going to do?"

"_He_'s not going to do anything," Marius said, "but _he_ doesn't _have_ to."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Marius didn't have a chance to answer her, because at that precise moment, Tom veritably threw Nagini at the girl. The three-year-old, foot- long snake was poised to strike and let out a menacing hiss as she eyed the foolish human who had insulted her master.

"It means," replied Tom with a vindictive smirk, "that while I promise not to harm you at this moment in time, I can, unfortunately for you, make no such promises on the behalf of my snake." Nagini hissed again and launched herself at the girl's ankles. Drusilla let out a shriek and leapt backward through the doorway, slamming the compartment door. After a few second's silence, Marius finally said something.

"Impressive, Tom. You just managed the feat of 'convincing' Drusilla McNair to leave me alone. Now I know how to get rid of her." Marius joked, "Next time she's bothering me, I'll just throw a snake at her." For a few seconds, both boys managed to keep a straight face. Then they couldn't help it and burst into peals of hysterical laughter.

Several hours later, the Hogwarts express pulled into Hogsmeade station. A voice from down near the front of the train called out, "First years, this way!" With a brief goodbye, the boys went in separate directions, Marius to the carriages and Tom to the boats. It seemed to take forever for them to reach the dock. "Three people to a boat, please. No more than three to a boat," the man leading them instructed. Everyone obeyed, although some of the muggleborns, who hadn't expected to travel via water, had to he coaxed into their boats. When they finally pulled away from the dock and began sailing in the direction of Hogwarts' underground harbor, Tom looked to see who his companions were. One of them was a boy with light brown hair and dark, navy-blue eyes. The other was a girl with brilliant red hair and sapphire eyes. Neither of the boys said anything until the girl decided to introduce herself.

"My name is Melanie Duval. My twin sister, who is in the boat right ahead of us, and I are the head of Ravenclaw's daughters." Tom suddenly looked at her with great interest, knowing that Ravenclaw's head of house, Juliet Ravencall was descended from Rowena Ravenclaw. He couldn't believe his luck. He'd fount one of Hogwarts' other heirs without even meaning to.

"I'm Tom Riddle," he said, offering his hand. The girl shook his hand and said it was a pleasure meeting him. He assumed she was only being polite.

"Well, my name is Moody, Alastor Moody," the other boy said. He didn't say anything other than that for the entire ride.

Once they arrived at the castle, they were greeted by the deputy headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. The man had auburn hair, a long beard and bright blue eyes that twinkled merrily in the candle light. He briefly explained the house system to them and then led them into the great hall. All the first years followed him through the hall until they came to a halt near the teachers' table, in front of a three-legged stool, upon which was placed a ragged old wizard's hat. Within seconds, all the nervous students, as well as many of the more confident ones began to whisper amongst themselves about what the sorting would be like. "What do we have to do," wondered a boy next to Tom. He had dark red hair and freckles and was accompanied by another boy who was apparently his twin brother. "Virginia told me it was some kind of test, but how's a hat going to test us?" The boy asked his twin.

Tom vaguely inferred that Virginia must be an older sister or cousin, before he turned to the pair of redheads and explained, "It's not a test. All we do is put the hat on our head and it looks at our personalities, and then puts us in one of the houses." Proud that he had learned that on his own and not been taught it by Marius, Tom added, "I read that in 'Hogwarts: A History'." Then he turned back around to face Professor Dumbledore, who unrolled a long piece of parchment and began reading students names from it, calling them up to be sorted.

"Black, Orion," was the first new student to be sorted. He had black hair that seemed slightly wild and blue eyes. He approached the stool and sat down with no apparent nervousness. It was obvious that he knew where he would be put. The barely touched his head when it shouted, "Slytherin!" The students at the furthermost table on the left (from the perspective of Tom, who was facing the teacher's table) all applauded. Drusilla McNair and a second year boy who looked like he was Black's brother were cheering with extra vigor.

The next student to be called, "Bennet, Douglas," was put in Hufflepuff, as was, "Bones, Amelia."

"Boot, Aaron," joined Ravenclaw, followed by, "Chang, Raymond."

"Duval, Heather," after two minutes, was placed in Gryffindor, while her sister, Melanie was a Ravenclaw.

"Edgecombe, Georgia," became a Hufflepuff. So did "Fig, Christopher."

"Lestrange, Julian," was sorted into Slytherin.

"Lockheart, Bianca," became the fifth Hufflepuff.

"Longbottom, Barry," proudly walked over to his new house table after the hat declared that he was a Gryffindor.

"Lovegood, Lawrence," was put in Ravenclaw.

"Lupin, Jonathan," was put in Gryffindor.

"Macmillan, Caleb," was placed in Hufflepuff.

"MacNeil, Augusta," was placed in Gryffindor.

Lucretia Malfoy, who was Marius' cousin, and another girl, "Marillier, Amanda," were both sorted into Slytherin.

"McGonagall, Alexander," joined Gryffindor, where he was welcomed warmly by his sister, who looked like she was in either third or fourth year.

Alastor Moody, the boy who had been in Tom's boat, was sorted into Slytherin. Another set of twins, "O'Rourke, Emma," and "O'Rourke, Erin," were both placed in Gryffindor.

A boy who appeared to be from India, "Patil, Riu," was sorted into Ravenclaw.

"Pettigrew, Allan," a terrified boy of small stature, who bore remarkable resemblance to a mouse (a/n: mouse, not rat), scampered over to the Hufflepuff table as soon as the hat was removed from his head.

"Pince, Irma," who, in great contrast to Pettigrew was tall and calm was surprisingly also sorted into Hufflepuff.

A very pretty, but serious looking girl with straight, ebony hair and onyx eyes, whose name was, "Prince, Eileen," was placed in Slytherin.

"Riddle, Tom," Professor Dumbledore called. Shakily, Tom came forward and sat on the stool. The hat was put on his head and he listened to its muttering with a great deal of nervousness.

'Hmm. You're one of the tricky ones, tike the Duval sisters and that Prince girl. You're very intelligent; you're far ahead of most of your peers in that department. You are certainly brave, as well as nearly fearless. The only things you seem to fear are death and fear itself. Ah, you're quite cunning and above all ambitious. Now let me see." The hat mused silently for a while and Tom began to wonder what on earth was taking so long. He was positive it had been more than four minutes since the hat had been placed on his head. 'You'd never make a good Hufflepuff,' the hat continued, 'Your loyalty and trust are not too easily given. You could do well in Gryffindor, but you're not as rash or open as most of the students in that house, so I don't think you'd enjoy it there. Just judging by your personality, I'd say that you'd do equally well in either Ravenclaw or Slytherin, but something about you, something in your blood weighs more in favor of Slytherin. Yes, you will do very well there and I expect that you'll accomplish great things.' The Hat seemed to have finally made up its mind and proclaimed, "Slytherin!"

Tom nearly fainted in relief and he barely managed to walk steadily as he rushed over to the Slytherin table and took a seat between Marius and Alastor Moody. The rest of the sorting went by rather quickly, now that he wasn't the center of attention. "Trelawney, Kassandra," was put in Ravenclaw. "Umbridge, Dolores," an ugly, toad-like girl with a sickly pink ribbon in her hair was, much to Tom's displeasure, sorted into Slytherin. "Warren, Penny", "Weasley, Michael", and "Weasley, Patrick," all joined Gryffindor house. The very last student to be sorted was a shy, pretty girl by the name of, "Zabini, Ariana." As Tom later found out, she was betrothed to Marius. She joined the Slytherin table, sitting next to Marius' cousin, Lucretia. Then Professor Dumbledore put the sorting hat and stool away and the Start of the Year Feast at last began.

(Spring, three years later)

"You can't do it Riddle," Drusilla McNair drawled, "You won't raise your wand against another mudblood." Tom grit hid teeth, but refrained from hexing her.

"I can do it. And I don't appreciate the use of the word 'another'. I don't consider myself a mudblood. I'm a halfblood and the magic half is so pure that it practically cancels out my father's worthless blood," the irate fourth year shat back.

"Oh really?" McNair smirked and said, "Go ahead and hex Andrew Sanderson. I dare you."

"Sanderson? He's only a first year, that's not fair. Why not Warren, she's a mudblood, she's in my year. It would be a fair fight," he argued.

"Fair?" Drusilla repeated him and looked around at the rest of the group. "Fair? I think the sorting hat meant to put Riddle in Hufflepuff." The group, which included Dorian and Orion Black, Julian Lestrange, and Dolores Umbridge, snickered at this comment. McNair continued, "See. What did I say? He won't do it. I bet he's a muggle _sympathizer_ too, after all, his daddy was a muggle," she mocked.

"I _can_ do it," the Tom declared loudly, tired of being bullied by members of his own house.

"Prove it then," his antagonizer said, crossing her arms and continuing to smirk condescendingly.

"Fine," he all but growled as he pulled out his wand and stalked over to the group of Gryffindor first years that were congregated around a nearby tree. "Sanderson," he called, imitating the worst bullying tone he could muster, which actually could quite easily rival McNair's.

"Who, me," the first year stuttered.

"Yah, you, the mudblood with the mousy brown hair, I was just wondering how some one like you got into this school. I know a _squib_ that has more magic than you do." Tom taunted the first year Gryffindor, hoping the kid would say something back. Then he wouldn't have to feel so bad about hexing him. Luckily for Tom's conscience, the boy's Gryffindor bravery, or as some called it, Gryffindor stupidity kicked in.

Sanderson straightened his back and steadied his voice before saying, "I'm not afraid of you, Riddle. You and your slimy Slytherin friends are all talk and no action. I don't know where you get off trying to pick on me anyway. I might have muggles for parents, but at least I _have_ parents."

Suddenly, Tom decided he no longer had qualms about hexing the younger student. His conscience was blessedly silent as he pointed his wand at the boy, fully prepared to hex him. Before he could say the incantation however, an older, female voice demanded furiously, "Riddle, what do you think you're doing? Ten points from Slytherin for threatening another student, a first year no less."

"Go right ahead and take the points," he sneered. "I'm friends with the Slytherin and Ravenclaw prefects. They'll just give them right back." He smirked at the older girl, who had hazel eyes and black hair that was pinned up in a bun. She glowered at him for a moment before she turned to the little boy Tom had been picking on.

"What did he say to you, Sanderson?"

"He called me a mudblood and said he knew a squib that had more magic than me," Sanderson answered, unashamed. The head girl was a seventh year from his own house, no to mention one of the best duelists in the school, so he wasn't worried anymore. If the Slytherins tried to pick on him, she would make sure they stopped.

When she heard what Sanderson had been teased about, she was outraged. "How dare you," she exclaimed furiously to the fourth year Slytherin in front of her. "Picking on him for being muggleborn, were you? What a bleeding hypocrite you are, Riddle. You go around bulling people who aren't purebloods just to cover up the fact that you're a halfblood." This infuriated Tom enough, but what she said next made him see red. "And not only are you a halfblood, but you're a BASTARD halfblood!"

Enraged, he pointed his wand at her and practically hissed, "_Corporis ardeo_!" The burning curse hurtled toward her, but with her quick reflexes, which she had gained from playing Gryffindor Seeker since her second year, she moved to the left and the spell missed her by inches.

"_Impedimentia_," she threw back at him.

"_Protego. Expelliarmus. Impedimentia. Petrificus Totalus. Corporis Ardeo. Sectumsempra_," he fired in rapid succession. She dodged all of them except the burning curse, which hit her near the collar bone, and the cutting curse, which left a deep gouge on her side.

"_Homo rana verto_," she incanted. He ducked the curse and just narrowly missed being turned into a frog.

"_Serpensortia_," he hissed. A snake appeared in front of him, but before he could order it to attack her, she countered.

"_Evanesco_," she shouted. Then she went on the defense again. "_Avis transmuto_." The spell hit him before he had a chance to counter it and he was transfigured into a bird. Quickly she aimed at his flying form and said, "_Includo in ferrum._" A heavy iron cage materialized around the bird and gravity sent it plummeting to the ground. Just before the cage made impact with the ground, the hazel-eyed witch added, "_Wingardium Leviosa_." She lowered the cage to the ground. Satisfied that he wasn't a threat at the moment, she took the time to perform a temporary healing spell on herself so that she wouldn't suffer too much from blood loss. In doing this, however, she was reminded that he had dared throw two potentially deadly curses at her and she was filled with a new fury. She pointed her wand again before saying, "_Violo ala sinestra_." The bird in the cage let out a screech of pain as its left wing was broken. The headgirl was prepared to break his other wing –a wing for each of the two curses he could have nearly killed her with- , when suddenly Professor Ravencal appeared.

"Miss McGonagall, what in Merlin's name is going on? You are covered in blood and you have what I'm guessing is a second degree burn!"

"I got into a fight with Tom Riddle," Minerva answered honestly.

"Well, where is he now," questioned the divination teacher. Minerva simply gestured toward the bird cage. Ravencall's eyes widened and she sputtered, "You didn't- you wouldn't- McGonagall, please tell me that is not Mr. Riddle."

"It is," the Gryffindor admitted.

"Well, let him out of the cage and turn him back," Ravencall ordered, "Immediately."

With a sigh, Minerva pointed her wand at the cage and said, "_Claustra evanesco_," banishing the cage, and then, aiming at the 'bird', "_Ad forma homo reverto_." An instant later Tom Riddle was once more in his natural form, kneeling on the ground, clutching his broken left arm.

"I can't believe that you two would so something so foolish, especially you, Miss McGonagall. You are the headgirl. You are supposed to be setting a good example for other students." The head of Ravenclaw declared, "I'm brining you both to the hospital wing, but the instant Mister Pomfrey (a/n: Poppy Pomfrey's father) is has finished healing you, you are both going to speak with your heads of house about this."

"Slughorn won't let you get away with this," Tom whispered viciously to the headgirl as both of them followed the professor up to the castle.

"Honestly," Minerva replied with a victorious smirk, "I couldn't care less what your precious head of house does because nothing is going to change the fact that I just kicked your ass."

**Sorry this was sooooo long. In Microsoft word, it's about twenty eight pages. It's the longest chapter I've ever written. Did you appreciate the fact that it was McGonagall who hexed the out of Tom? Or are you more amused with the fact that fifty four years later, she would use almost the exact same line on the fake Prof. Moody as Ravencall used on her? Questions to ponder: What is Heather Duval's married name? What happened to Marius' brother, Octavian Terrence Malfoy? What is Drusilla McNair's married name? YOUR OPINIONS: If I were to bring one character who actually is dead back to life, who would it be, and why (you don't have to answer the why part): Dumbledore, Sirius, Lily, James, Melanie, or no one? That question is important! Please take the time to answer it!**


	7. Chapter 7: The Sword and the Locket

**Author's Note: I have this story written all the way up to chapter eleven. I have held off on posting this chapter because almost nobody reviewed. Also, I was really disappointed that the last chapter didn't get any comments because I worked really hard on it. It was the longest chapter I've ever written and it was very difficult to do. I hope this chapter is greeted with more enthusiasm. Anyway, here it is:**

Chapter Seven: The Sword and the Locket

He opened his eyes to see a girl with bright red hair and blue eyes looking down at him. The last thing he could remember was being at the Three Broomsticks with Melanie on Christmas. His vision, for some reason, was blurry and he could not see any of the other people in the room clearly. The only one he recognized was the girl kneeling on the floor beside him. 'How did I end up on the floor?' No answer was forthcoming, so he blinked furiously, trying to no avail to clear his vision. Thoroughly confused, he looked up at his red-haired girlfriend. "Melanie?" She didn't say anything. He saw her expression change, but of course, he couldn't see what it had been or what it had changed to. "Melanie," he repeated, "What happened? Why can't I see? Everything is blurry." Then he suddenly became aware that he was a) still lying on the ground and b) wearing glasses. 'Why in Merlin's name am I wearing glasses?' With that thought, he reached up and pulled the round, black-framed lenses away from his face. To his relief, the world slid back into focus. To his intense distress, he now saw that he was in an unfamiliar place and that the girl beside him was not Melanie. In fact, she looked more like a mix between a Weasley and a Prewett than she did anything else. He sat up and became even more alarmed when he realized that he didn't recognize any of the other people in the room, though one of them looked like a Black and another was definitely a Weasley.

He jumped to his feet and took a step away from everyone else. He could tell that his wand was missing, so he concentrated very hard on summoning it. A split second later, a wand went flying off the table and he caught it in his left hand. It wasn't _his_ wand, but it would have to do. Raising the wand and assuming a defensive dueling stance, he demanded, "Where am I and who are all of you?" Apparently the strangers hadn't expected him to ask that because they all stared at him for several minuted before one of them, the girl who had bushy brown hair and amber eyes, the one who he couldn't identify by family, made a comment about him.

"He sounds different. His accent is different." She turned to the Weasley boy and continued, "He doesn't sound like he's from Surrey. He sounds like he's from- well actually, he sounds like he grew up in the same area that Lucius Malfoy did." At this, the boy sent him a very odd look, but the girl's words had held something that _was_ familiar.

"Malfoy?" He directed his question at the probably mudblood girl. "Is this Lucius Malfoy any relation to Abraxus or Marius Malfoy?"

"Well," the girl said slowly, "I've never heard of anyone named Marius Malfoy, but I believe that Lucius Malfoy's father was named Abraxus." Funny. He didn't know that Marius had another sibling. Finally, realizing that none of them had their wands out, he lowered his.

"What are your names," he finally asked. This caused more staring and the Weasley boy looked like he was about to say something, but the mudblood girl cut him off and introduced herself and the others.

"I'm Hermione Granger," she then pointed to the two red heads, "They are Ron and Ginny Weasley." The name Ginny Weasly seemed _very_ familiar for some reason. Suddenly, an image came to mind of this same girl, except about four or five years younger, lying on the floor in the Chamber of Secrets, of a boy who looked a good deal like himself talking about saving her and asking for his help, of summoning the basilisk to kill the boy, and-

Shaking his head to get rid of those images, he told himself, 'That's insane. I've never brought anyone with me to the Chamber of Secrets, so those things couldn't have happened.' Then he blinked and looked at the brown haired girl. He figured that since she was a mudblood, or at least a halfblood like himself, she was least likely to jump all over him about his last name, so he chose to keep talking to her instead of to either of the Weasleys or the man who hadn't been introduced. "I'm T-"

Before he could even pronounce the second letter of his first name, Ginny, the one who seemed so familiar began shouting at him. "You are _not_! Don't say that! It's not funny! You're _not_ Tom Riddle, so stop imitating his accent and expressions, and stop using your left hand! You're right handed! You grew up in Surrey! And your mane is HARRY POTTER!" There was a ringing silence following Ginny's outburst.

Then suddenly, that silence was broken as Harry Potter let his holly and phoenix feather wand clatter to the ground. "What the fuck just happened," he exclaimed. "Why did I- Oh bloody hell!" He didn't go back to the table. He just dropped to the ground beside his wand and pulled his knees to his chest and stared at the white tile floor. He silently ran over the facts. First of all, he had just thought, for over ten minutes, that he was Tom Marvolo Riddle, and had had no recollection of being Harry Potter. That part greatly disturbed him. Merlin, he'd even remembered the scene from the Chamber of Secrets through Tom Riddle's eyes. Speaking of eyes, he also noted that he apparently no longer reguired glasses. Then he realized, and this was the most disturbing fact of all, that he had two full sets of memories, of two different lives, both reaching the age of nearly seventeen. One belonged to Harry Potter, and the other belonged to Tom Riddle. 'How the hell is that possible?' A memory flashed through his mind. He was asking Slughorn about horcruxes, or rather, he as Tom Riddle was doing so. Slughorn was telling him that if the person who created the horcrux was the one to destroy it, then the piece of the person's soul, as well as the memories imparted with it, would rejoin the rest of the soul. 'But that would mean that if I got the memories, then _I_ am Tom Riddle. That's impossible. It just has to be some sort of freak coincidence.' He resolved to ignore all worries about the matter and just explain what had happened to him while he had been unconscious.

When he finished his story, they were all staring at him strangely, for what seemed like the umpteenth time that day. Ginny quickly shook it off though, and snapped, "Oh, come on, you lot, stop looking at him like he's about to Avada us all, for Merlin's sake! This is Harry we're talking about. He has a really strong connection to Voldemort and so the magic in the horcrux mistook the connection for part of the soul it belonged to and because Harry has more of a soul than Voldemort does, the memories went to him instead."

'And that,' Harry reminded himself, 'is why she's my girlfriend.' He looked over at her and said out loud, "Thanks, Ginger." Ginny flinched.

"Don't _call_ me that," she insisted almost angrily.

"Why not?" He saw a picture of words being scrawled in the pages of Tom Riddle's diary, words written by Ginny. She wrote that she didn't want to be called Ginny because it was a baby name and she didn't want to be called Ginerva either because it sounded_ too_ grown-up. He (Tom) had from that point on called her 'Ginger'. "Nevermind," Harry said, answering his own question. "I'm sorry Ginny. I'll try not to let that slip. If it happens again, I apologize in advance." Ginny nodded. Apparently, that was alright by her. During this conversation, Harry had picked up his wand –in his right hand- and gotten to his feet. Walking back over to the table, he and every one else resumed their seats. Harry was just about to ask Regulus something when Hermione asked a general question, _to_ no one in particular, but _about_ Harry specifically.

"If the diary was destroyed just over four years ago, then why did he only get the memories back now?" No one had a direct answer. The closest thing to an answer that she got was Harry's response.

"Well, the diary had memories that ende when Tom was this age, I mean my age. It would make sense that I only realized I had all the memories once I was old enough to be able to deal with them."

"You mean, you think that subconsciously, you've been repressing all these memories since second year because you hadn't yet reached the right developmental stage, psychologically speaking, to deal with them in a non-traumatic way," Hermione asked. At that moment, Harry was very glad that Tom Riddle had possessed both a formidable vocabulary and a decent amount of knowledge about psychology, because for the first time, he actually understood every single word his best friend had just said.

"That's the best hypothesis I can come up with, Harry replied with a nod.

Forgetting about everyone except Harry and herself, the Ravenclaw-like girl continued along her line of questioning. "But why did you remember it all today? Is this the anniversary of the horcrux's creation, or is it something else?"

This time Harry was absolutely positive of his answer. "The trigger was talking about Melanie's death. I- _he_ loved her a lot. He really, _really_ loved her."

"But what about the other horcrux, the one you didn't destroy yourself?"

"My- _HIS _grandfather's ring? Marvolo Gaunt's ring?"

"Yes, that. What happened to those memories?"

"I have no idea, unfortunately," Harry answered.

Ginny brought they back to their surroundings by suggesting, "Why don't we try out our theories by testing them out on the horcrux we do have?" Ron, Ginny, and Hermione all looked at Harry. He shrugged. It was worth a try.

Regulus watched in fascination as they seemingly forgot about him, becoming completely absorbed in what they were planning. Harry asked Ron if he had 'it' with him. From what Regulus gathered, the four had planned on making sure that every horcrux they found was on one of their bodies at all times. Ron, it seemed, had been entrusted with the first of the four remaining horcruxes. Out of the ankle of his boot, he pulled a tiny sword and scabbard. The sword could be no longer than a muggle pencil, but it was made out of pure silver with rubies decorating the dcabbard. Ron handed the sword to Harry, who removed it from its sheath before laying the sword itself in the middle of the long table. Pointing his wand at it, Harry muttered, "_Engorio_." The sword was immediately restored to its full size. Now that it was life sized, Regulus could easily read the name engraved upon the blade. He gaped, but didn't dare say a word to interrupt the process. "Alright, everyone," Harry ordered, "I don't know if this spell could possibly back-fire and hurt someone, so I want all of you to remove yourselves at least as far as the doorway." Hermione and Ron found Harry's use of the phrase 'remove yourselves' to be a little uncharacteristic, but Ginny just realized that he now had Tom's vocabulary. All four of the kitchens other occupants obeyed the command and went to stand in the doorway. "Oh, one last thing," Harry added, "If you see that I am about to fall off my chair again, I would very much appreciate it if someone would cast wingardium leviosa. I would prefer not to break my neck or crack my skull if the situation is at all avoidable." Again, his speech pattern was uncharacteristic, but figuring that after today it would be characteristic, his friends ignored it. Everyone assured him that he wouldn't end up lying on the floor again. Harry nodded and turned his attention back to the sword.

'Here goes nothing,' he thought to himself as he gathered his power and focused his will. Once he was sure that he had put enough strength and willpower behind the spell, Harry finally spoke the incantation, "_Deleo anima_." Just as it was supposed to, a deep violet beam of light shot out of his wand and surrounded the sword of Godric Gryffindor with purple flames of light. Harry waited with baited breath for the purple flames to turn black. To his surprise, they turned white instead and glowed brilliantly for an instant before vanishing. He couldn't believe it. Dumbledore had been so certain: the diary, the ring, the locket, the cup, something of Ravenclaw's, and something of Gryffindor's. And this sword was the only thing of Gryffindor's that they could find.

"What is it Harry," Ron asked, seeing the disbelief on his best friend's fave.

"It's not a horcrux," Harry said, more to himself than as an answer to Ron's question. "Now the only remaining horcrux, which we are sure is a horcrux, is lost only Merlin knows where." Harry dejectedly miniaturized the sword again and placed it back in its sheath. Then he unexpectedly cast a few extra spells. One conjured a silver chain that was sturdy and thick, though not heavy. A second spell, which was in parseltongue, attached the miniaturized sword to the chain via its sheath. Last of all, Harry cast a notice-me-not charm on what now looked like a pendant, before he announced that everyone could return to the table. Once they were all seated, Harry handed the 'pendant' back to Ron.

"You're _giving_ Godric Gryffindor's sword to _me_," Ron questioned, stunned.

"Yes, I'm giving it to you. The spell in parsel allows you to pull the sword from its sheath and have it return to full size at your will. It will be very useful in battle." Still stunned and quite honored, Ron took the sword and reverently slipped the heavy-looking chain around his neck. After a moment, Harry turned back to the rest of the group. In a business-like manner, he addressed his 'god uncle', saying, "Now, regarding the horcrux that is only Merlin knows where, perhaps you might have some small piece of information that would imply that someone other than Merlin knows where it is." There was a pause before Harry rephrased. "In other words, Regulus, as you were going to say about what happened to the locket before I so unceremoniously and inconvieniently fell unconscious…"

This time, the blue-eyed man took the hint. "Alright, wher did I leave off? Oh, yeah. As I was saying before Hermione started her inquisition and you had your epiphany, they didn't find the locket. It was actually in my _pocket_ and they didn't find it. I suppose that the Dark Lord assumed it had been destroyed already and just didn't bother to tell them to look for it. I already told I had healing potions with me. I healed myself as best I could and then I morphed- yes I'm a metamorphamagus- into a nondescript appearance and went to visit Melanie's sister-"

"Heather," Harry supplied. "She was in Gryffindor."

"-yes, Heather, and posed as the manager of Melanie's estate. I told her exactly what Melanie told me to say to her." He paused to breathe. "I told her that Melanie had just died in a car crash and that she had a will, which she had supposedly written several years ago incase something were to suddenly happen to her. This will supposedly requested that the locket e given to Melanie's niece, Heather's second daughter, Lily Evans." For a full three minutes, Harry gaped at the exdeatheater.

Suddenly- so suddenly in fact, that he startled everyone else- Harry literally leapt out of his seat and bounded back to the den, with the exclamation of, "I think I just figured out what's in the other box!" In a matter of seconds, the Boy-Who-Lived had retrieved the box and sprinted back to the table. Placing the box on the table, he didn't even say a word before he opened it. This box contained two objects, which where covered, as his mother's wand had been, by green velvet. Pulling the material back, Harry gave a cry of triumph. Once more, he leapt out of the seat, byt this time, he held on high the golden locket that Salazar Slytherin had given to his only child, Serina.

"Bloody hell," Ron swore. "Harry, you realize, don't you, that one of Voldemort's horcruxes, which he was so bound and determined to hide was a) in the home of the people he was attacking without him knowing it, b) _around_ the neck of a woman he killed without him noticing it, and c) in the attic under loads of dust and cobwebs in a box in the house of his worst enemy for _fifteen years_ without him even thinking that even still existed, or that having a clue that his archenemy lived there to begin with." There was a momentary pause before Ron added, "Not to mention that he happens to be your mum's uncle." This observation caused everyone to freeze. Hermione was stupefied that Ron, of all people had picked up on that little detail. Regulus had a look of befuddlement on his face, wondering why he hadn't thought of that before. Harry and Ginny however, just looked at each other and started laughing hysterically. Harry thought it was so funny that by the time he regained his wits, he had to wipe tears of laughter from his eyes. Once more, the room was silent as everyone eyed the locket.

"Hem hem," Ginny coughed, in perfect imitation of Dolores Umbridge, the Ministry's excuse for a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Ron jumped and then glared at his little sister. Hermione had to stifle a laugh. Regulus raised an eyebrow, perplexed. Harry, who was once more sitting down, groaned and let his forehead hit the table.

"Please, Ginny," he begged, "_don't_ do that. It was bad enough that I had to deal with that toad being in my house, in my year, and thus in most of my classes for _seven_ years, not to mention having her 'teach' that travesty of a Defense Against the Dark Arts class in fifth year."

"Seven years," Ron repeated in a horrified squeek, "Man do I feel bad for you, mate." They all laughed this time. Then Harry got serious again and repeated his instructions from earlier. Everyone retreated back to the safety of the doorway. Harry placed the locket on the table. (Hermione was holding the box and whatever else was in it.)

Taking out his wand again, Harry pointed it at the locket and said, "_Deleo anima_." The purple light shot out of his wand again and surrounded the locket. After a moment though, the flames just dissappated. "Stupid," he muttered to himself, "Slughorn said will and power." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, summoning his power and reinforcing it with his will. Then he cast the spell again. This time, he felt a rush of power unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. It felt tike some kind of high. Harry remembered that this spell was as dark as, if not darker than, the killing curse. Suddenly he understood exactly why people said the Dark Arts were addictive. The black flames around the locket rose up high into the air as Harry felt the dark energy crescendo. Then the flames vanished.

There was no onslaught of memories this time, no blacking out. One moment, Harry didn't have the memories and the next, he simply _did_. And he also knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that somehow, someway, he had been and, if his heart was anything to go by, still was Tom Marvolo Riddle. As he remembered the last few years he had spent with his wife, something began to well up inside of him. Something that Harry Potter was well acquainted with, but which Tom Riddle had not been whole enough to feel in over thirty five years. One tear trickled down his cheek as he finally realized all that he had lost. And for the first time in his life, in his original body or in his current body, Tom Riddle allowed himself to grieve openly. Harry Potter allowed himself to be pushed to the back of his own mind for the time being.

"Are you alright," Ginny asked when she saw him crying.

He shook his head. "I just need time to be alone," he replied. Then he stood up and, clutching the locket in his hand, made his way to his room. No one bothered him, figuring it was just better to let him be.

Meanwhile, in a town not far from London, Neville Longbottom was having an argument of sorts with a good friend of his. The other boy, blond, slightly tall, and now only slightly overweight stared resolutely at the carpet in front of his armchair. Neville stood in front of the seventeen year old and firmly declared, "Come on, Terry, you've got to do it." Finally, the boy looked up at his best and only friend, meeting his gaze. Then he looked back down.

"I can't do it, Nev, I just can't. She already kicked me out. My dad's disowned me completely. Besides it would be ridiculous. I'm seventeen! I should be graduating next june, not finishing first year."

"You wouldn't be finishing first year," Augusta Longbottom pointed out from where she sat in her rocking chair, knitting as she observed the debate Neville and Terry were having. Terrence, it turned out, was a wizard, but had either never gotten a Hogwarts letter, or had been forbidden to go. He was a halfblood. His mother had pretended to hate magic for most of Terry's life, but last September, she had revealed, after Terry's father became abusive, that she was a witch and had kicked them out of the house. Terry Had moved out with his dad. The divorce, the move, and the revelation had changed him. He no longer agreed with his father's opinion of the magical community. After a fit of accidental magic in early October, his father had disowned him. He was too afraid and confused to try to go back to his mother, so he had begun living on the streets. Augusta, who lived a ways down the road, had witnessed the incident and when she saw the poor sixteen year old boy on the street, she just had to take him in.

Terry had been hesitant at first, but then Augusta had offered to teach him magic and so he quickly agreed and moved in with her. Neville had, of course, been at Hogwarts when this happened, but after a little encouragement, the boys had begun to owl one another regularly and quickly became friends. Victoria and several of her acquaintances had home-schooled the 'orphaned' wizard, beginning in late October and even now, in the summer, the boy still had his one-on-one lessons every day.

"What do you mean, Gran," asked Neville, who was very curious to see how the home-schooling his friend had received would measure up to Hogwarts' standards.

"Well, I'd say, at the rate you're going, Terrence," Mrs. Longbottom explained, "if you keep up the lessons all summer, you'll be at third year level by September first." Terry's blue eyes widened in surprise. Neville looked at his friend, quite impressed that the boy had covered first and second year in one year's time.

"You mean that if I _did_ –that's theoretical, Neville- write to my mum and ask her about going to Hogwarts, I would be put in third year?" The old woman nodded. Terry could hardly believe his ears. "But would Professor McGonagall even let me in?" His voice was filled with hope and uncertainty at the same time.

"I'm sure that she would be willing to give you a chance," Mrs. Longbottom stated, not looking up from her knitting, "But I won't write a single letter about your previous education unless you write to your mother and get her permission first. Minerva McGonagall is a very strict woman. If you don't have parental consent, she can't let you into the school, not in these troubled times."

He thought about it for a moment before he made up his mind. "Alright, I'll give it a try." Neville clapped him on the back and Mrs. Longbottom smiled proudly.

"Go on then," Neville encouraged, "We won't bother you, but don't stay up all night trying to write the letter."

"I won't," the other boy replied as he reached the top of the stairs. Once he had reached his own room and was sitting at his desk, he pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill and began to write. Several hours later, he at last signed his name and put the quill away before changing into his nightclothes and going to sleep. The next morning, right before breakfast he sent the letter off with Mrs. Longbottom's owl.

Right after breakfast, the owl delivered the letter to the boy's mother. Taken by surprise to see her name and address written in her son's handwriting on an envelope that had been delivered _by owl_, the perplexed witch sat down at the kitchen table and opened the letter.

_Dear Mum,_

_I know you probably never want to hear from me again, after all the stuff I let Dad get away with last year. But please, PLEASE don't throw this away without reading the whole thing. When Dad and I moved away, I was upset a lot, and weird things started happening. I had no one to cover for me and no one to blame it on, so Dad realized I was doing accidental magic. He got furious and kicked me out. He told me never to come near him again. I had to live on the streets for a few days, but then a lady that lived a few houses down the road took me in. It turns out, she was a witch. Her name is Augusta Longbottom. She had me write letters to her grandson, Neville, who was away at Hogwarts, and now Nev and I are best friends._

_Anyway, Mrs. Longbottom found out that I was a wizard a couple of days after I moved in. She took me to get a wand –which she says she refuses to let you pay her back for- at Ollivanders. It's beech and mahogany, twelve and three quarters of an inch long. Before I left the shop, Mr. Ollivander told me that I would be a quick learner. And he was right. Mrs. Longbottom and some of her friends have been home-schooling me since right before Halloween. Because everything is one-on-one, I got to cover stuff a lot faster. she says that if I keep going at this pace, I'll be ready for third year level spells by September._

_I wrote this letter for two reasons, Mum. First of all, as much as I like Neville and his grandmother, I really miss you and I really miss home. I'm (obviously) not a wizard hater like Dad. I'm actually really proud to be a wizard, even if I'm only a halfblood. In other words, I'm asking you to take me back in. Please, Mum. I've changed, really, I promise, and I'd really like to know more about our (wizarding) family. Where both your parents purebloods, were they half and half, were they muggleborns? What kinds of spells were they good at? What types if spells are you good at? I'm best in Herbology (I blame that on Nev- it's his favorite subject) and charms._

_The second reason I'm writing to you is because I want to go to Hogwarts with Neville in September. Mrs. Longbottom told me that the headmistress would only let me into the school with your consent. I'm begging you, Mum, even if you won't let me come home to live with you, at least let me go to Hogwarts, please. I know it would be strange, being in classes with a bunch of thirteen year olds, but I've decided I don't really care. It would mean so much to me, and i know I don't deserve it, but please will you write to Headmistress McGonagall?_

_You don't have to reply to this letter if you really don't' want to. I'll understand. I'll always miss you, but if I go to Hogwarts, at least I'll be around other wizards. Please write to Professor McGonagall, even if you don't write back to me. If you do write back to me, then write your last name and my middle name on the envelope, since that's the name I'm going by now._

_Love, your son, _

_Dudley (Terrence) Evans Dursley_

_P.S. Dad's hair was purple until Christmas. That was brilliant._

**So, who saw that coming? Do you hate the Dudley thing? Do you like it? Was if believable? If you really hate it, I'll take it out, since the story is already really complex. What about Harry being Tom? Please someone say they already knew that would happen. Did anyone guess that the locket would be right under Harry's nose the entire time? Why did Melanie give it to _Lily_ specifically? Why not give it to Petunia, Rose, or Blaire? What is the other object in the square box? And I'll ask again if any one has any idea what Melanie's riddle means. Please try to solve at least one line of it. If you can figure out at least one line before Hermione or any of the other characters (they figure it out in the next chapter), then the next chapter will be dedicated to you. Also, here's a really trick one: If Gryffindor's sword was not a horcrux, but something of Gryffindor's is, what is it? Who visit's Grimwald Place in the next chapter? What decision does Petunia make? Will Terry (Dudley) get into Hogwarts? How will Harry react? I would REALLY appreciate it if you guys (and girls) would take the time to answer some of these questions.**

**Thanks,**

**Phoenix**


	8. Chapter 8: What's in a Name?

**I'm sad that no one even tried to figure out the riddle. This chapter does get a dedication though, to momocolady and Angelis Raye for figuring out two other major plot mysteries. Note that I am aware of the fact that the orphanage was in London, but putting it in Little Hangleton made the story easier to write.**

Chapter Eight: What's in a Name?

Rose Evans ended the fire call she had just had with her other sister, Blaire, who was six years younger than she was. She had fire-called Blaire, to check up on her son, Octavian. The sixteen year old boy had been staying with his Aunt Blaire while Rose and Petunia worked things out. It had been agreed upon by all three of the Evans sisters that Blaire, Rose, and Octavian would be move into 4 Privet Drive later that month and that Octavian would attend Hogwarts in September. He had just turned sixteen, and would thus be at a sixth year level. Rose had begun his schooling when he was eleven, just as if he were to start regular school. Rose had written to the headmistress and it was decided that he would be placed in sixth year. Walking into the kitchen, Rose noticed that Petunia had received a letter. From the look on the older woman's face, the letter contained shocking news.

"What is it Tunia? What's wrong? Who is the letter from?" Her voice was full of concern. Her older sister looked up. For a moment, it was as if she hadn't heard the questions at all.

Then she handed Rose the parchment and said, "It's from my son. I can barely believe what if says. And look how he signs it! The 'Dudley Dursley' is just a courtesy signature. He's going by father's name now, Terrence Evans. And he's been living with the Longbottoms." Quickly scanning the letter, Rose could easily see why her sister was shocked. But then again, hadn't Petunia done a 180 turn around in her attitude toward magic over the past year too? After she finished reading the entire thing, she pulled out a chair and sat down, handing the letter back to her sister.

"Well, what do you think I should do," Petunia asked. It was very clear what she wanted to do. I just wasn't clear (to her) if it was the right thing. Rose thought it was quite clear.

"I say, get out a quill and some parchment this instant and write to McGonagall. Better yet, let's fire-call her and then you can write back to your son."

"Alright, I believe I'll do just that," Petunia said, still a little in shock. Just as she was about to leave the kitchen however, there was a tapping at the window and Petunia recognized the owl on the windowsill as Hedwig. "Wait a moment. Here's a letter from Harry." She went to the window and opened it. The snowy owl flew into the room and after Petunia took the letter from the bird's leg, Hedwig perched on one of the chairs. Apparently, Harry had told his owl to wait for a response. Petunia looked at the envelope and announced, "Rose it's for you."

Rose took the envelope that was handed to her, but then dropped it, as if burned. She made a strange noise and an almost frightened look came over her face. There was nothing frightening or suspect about the envelope, save for the way it was addressed:

_Mrs. Rosanne Elizabeth Black_

_4 Privet Drive_

_Little Whinging, Surrey_

"Petunia," the red haired witch asked suspiciously, "did you ever tell Harry who I was married to?"

"No. Why?"

"Tunia, it's addressed to _Mrs. ._Rosanne Elizabeth _Black_! Is this Harry's handwriting?" Petunia looked the envelope over once more and nodded, also mentioning that it was most definitely their nephew's owl too. "I don't want to open it," Rose declared moodily.

"Rose, it's just a letter," Petunia insisted, "And it cannot possibly be any stranger than _my_ letter. Besides, you _asked_ Harry to write to you."

"I know all that! But how did he know my married name was Black?" The older of the two sisters sighed as she sat back down.

"Did you know that Harry inherited Grimwald Place from Sirius?" Rose shook her head. "He lives there now," Petunia explained, "and he probably saw your name on the tapestry and thought that you'd _appreciate_ being called by your married name since you never legally ended your marriage, even after your husband died." This information seemed to calm down the other witch significantly. Exhaling loudly, Rose picked up the envelope and opened it. To her relief, the letter was only an invitation to dinner that evening. Unfortunately, Petunia already had plans and had to decline. Rose wrote on the back of the parchment that she would me there at six o'clock, just like the letter said. Then she replaced the parchment in the envelope and, crossing out her own name and address, wrote:

_Mr. Henry James Potter_

_12 Grimwald Place_

_London_

Midmorning at Grimwald Place found Regulus Augustus Black pacing back and forth in the den. He had just been informed by Ginny, who had been the only one to cross reference all the names of all the unknown people on the clock to the tapestry, that his wife, Rosanne, was still alive. Ginny waited patiently for him to stop pacing so that she could talk to him. Hermione, who had written out Melanie's riddle and was now attempting to solve it, was in the library. Ron was still asleep. Harry had yet to come out of his room since the locket incident the previous evening. Realizing that Regulus was not likely to stop pacing any time in the near future, Ginny decided to go and see if her boyfriend was alright. She was just about to get up from her chair when the young man in question appeared in the doorway.

"Good morning, Ginny. Good morning, Regulus. Regulus, whatever are you pacing for?" Harry seemed to be in good spirits once more, though Ginny could tell that from that morning on, everyone would be hearing a lot more of Tom's accent and speech pattern and seeing a lot more of his mannerisms. At the sound of Harry's voice, Regulus ceased his pacing –this was only to be temporary- and turned to face him with a haggard expression that almost made Harry flinch in its similarity to Sirius.

"Well," Regulus began in a voice that clearly highlighted the fact that the man was anxious beyond belief, "Ginny has just told me-"

Ginny interrupted him by saying, "When he says 'just', he means a half hour ago."

"_Just_ told me," Regulus continued as if she had not spoken, "that my wife, your aunt, Rose is still alive and that she's living at Privet Drive with Petunia." Instead of acting shocked by this information, Harry merely leaned against the doorframe, crossed his arms, and silently nodded for the man who was apparently not just his god uncle, but his real uncle, to go on. "Ginny thinks I should contact her, but I'm worried she won't want me back. I played dead for almost seventeen years, when I could have tried just a little bit harder to find her. I really want to contact her, but-" Regulus just let the sentence drop off.

Harry's neutral expression suddenly turned into a good-natured smirk, as he said, "Don't worry. I believe I've already taken care of that." Both the boy's girlfriend and his uncle looked highly confused and slightly suspicious. Harry's apparent foreknowledge of the situation and the impression of omniscience it gave were very reminiscent of Dumbledore. Ginny was about to ask what he meant by that, but found there was no need. For at that precise moment, Hedwig flew out of the kitchen and down the hall to perch on Harry's shoulder. Taking the envelope from his owl's beak and reading the brief note it contained, Harry gave the letter back to Hedwig, who flew upstairs, presumably to Harry's room. Harry looked back up at them and his smirk became a smile as he announced, "Yes, the matter is settled." Ginny ignored her confusion because it was far outweighed by her suspicion. Harry's seeming omniscience, Hedwig's perfect timing; it was as if the whole thing had been planned. The Boy-Who-Lived glanced momentarily at the youngest member of the Weasley clan before he looked significantly at Regulus. "I took the liberty of contacting her earlier this morning and she has, as you can see, just sent back a reply. She wrote that she would be very happy to accept the invitation to dinner tonight. Aunt Petunia unfortunately had to decline, but I was planning on that." Then without a further word and with the Dumbledore-like smile on his face, he left the room and made his way to the kitchen.

Regulus looked too shocked to even comment. Ginny, on the other hand, ranted, "Wonderful! Now we've got a Boy-Who-Lived who acts like Tom Riddle one moment and Albus Dumdbledore the next!" With this, she marched upstairs to wake her lazy brother. That left Regulus to his pacing.

At Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Minerva McGonagall looked up from her desk to see a very nervous-looking Petunia Evans' visage in the flames of her fireplace. The new headmistress rose from her desk slowly, not really believing her eyes. Petunia Evans –no, Dursley- had left the magical community over seventeen years ago. Why on earth was she contacting someone, Minerva in particular, _now_ of all times? Taking a seat in front of the fire, Professor McGonagall quickly masked her shock and politely said, "Good day, Mrs. Dursley."

"Oh, it's Evans again, now," the other woman replied, not really meeting her former professor's gaze. "You see, I divorced Vernon early last September."

"Really?" Minerva leaned forward and eagerly listened to Petunia's tale. Some time later, the eldest of the Evans sisters had concluded her story by finally asking if it would be possible to admit Dudley, now called Terry to Hogwarts in the fall. The headmistress leaned back in her armchair and pondered the matter silently for a while before replying, "Ms. Evans, there is no rule stating that your son can not be admitted several years late –though I must admit, I don't believe any other student has ever been admitted _thi_s late- , but I would have to get his transcript from Augusta Longbottom and find out what year he should really be placed in. Also, if he truly wished it, he will be known as in the wizarding world as Terrence Evans, providing, of course, that you write to the Ministry's Department of Records and have his name legally changed. I also advise that he tell Mrs. Longbottom and Neville his history, just so that it does not cause tension later on." Petunia nodded.

"Thank you, Professor," Petunia said earnestly, "this will mean so much to him; and it means so much to me."

"You are welcome, Ms. Evans. I shall write to Mrs. Longbottom requesting a transcript. Once I have decided what year he is to be it, I'll contact you and a letter will be sent to him, inviting him to Hogwarts and containing the usual supply list and other such necessary information. I only need to know if I should be owling his letter to the Longbottom's address, or to Privet Drive."

"To Privet Drive; I plan to have him move back home as soon as possible. Hopefully it will be sometime in the next few days."

"Very well, I suspect that you want to write to your son, so I shall bid you have a good afternoon."

"You as well," Petunia returned. Then the connection cut off. For a moment, Minerva's eyes lingered on the fire and then she returned to her desk and began composing a letter to Augusta Longbottom.

It was now noon and Harry, Hermione, Ginny, Ron (who had finally gotten up), and Regulus (who had finally stopped pacing) were all seated around the kitchen table, enjoying a lunch of sandwiches, salad, and fresh lemonade. Hermione was holding half a sandwich in one hand and a pen (the muggle kind) in the other. She tapped the pen against the side of her glass as she scrutinized the piece of parchment that lay before her on the table.

"Mione," Ron complained between mouthfuls of his turkey sandwich, "don't tell me you've _already_ started your summer work. It's only the second full day of summer holiday!"

"I'm actually _not _doing homework, Ronald," she informed him in a very matter-of-fact tone, without looking up from the parchment she was studying. "If you had woken up at a reasonable hour this morning, you would have already known that I am trying to solve Melanie's riddle." The quartet had stopped calling the Ravenclaw ghost 'Melanie Duval' and started calling her simply 'Melanie', since both Harry and Regulus already did so. Ron looked a bit taken aback that his girlfriend had actually sounded _offended_ when he asked her if she was doing homework. At the same time though, he was relieved. As long as she hadn't stated her homework yet, she wouldn't be harping on him about doing his own.

"Have you figured anything out yet," the boy's younger sister questioned.

"Well not exactly. What I mean to say is that I know what I have to do in order to solve the riddle, but I don't know how to do that. Regulus looked it over and thinks that the whole poem is not so much a list of clues as it is a verbal map or a list of directions, though we're not sure if it's one or the other or even both. I'm rather sure that most of the clues or directions are puns-"

"Whats?"

"Puns, Ron, plays on words," she explained before continuing. "If I could just figure out which phrases to alter, then I think I could solve it."

"Let me see it," Harry requested. In response, Hermione handed him the parchment and the pen. "Hmm," he mused as he looked at the words and their placement, completely ignoring the _apparent_ meaning of the words _as they were_. The riddle, as Hermione had written, appeared on the parchment like this:

"This riddle has two beginnings here;

One in life, the other in fantasy.

The direction you want is straightfowards,

But you must look as if it's diagonally.

What you seek, though very full,

Is, within, a hollow still.

The answer lies not in memory,

but in memory in a dream."

Harry distinctly remembered that Melanie's ghost had stressed the first word and also given the second word significant weight. He was fairly sure that when she said 'riddle' she had not been referring to the poetry-like list of clues that followed. She had said straightfowards oddly, pausing almost imperceptibly between the t and the f, as well as saying the last two syllables slowly. He took note also of the unnecessary s at the end of the word. The word 'diagonally' had been likewise spoken, with an unnecessary stress on the second to last syllable. Deciding to work with just the first four lines for now, Harry mentally replayed Melanie's pronunciation of the riddle and compared it with what Hermione had written down. Suddenly, he understood and began crossing things out and capitalizing other things. The whole group watched in fascination as he did this, since none of them had any idea what he was actually doing. Finally, he put the pen down.

"Here," he said, passing the parchment back to Hermione. The muggleborn witch looked at the changes he had made, the parchment now looking like this:

_This_ **R**iddle has two beginnings here:

One in life, the other in fantasy.

The direction you want is straightfowards simply four words,

but you must look as if it's **D**iagon**A**lly.

What you wish to find, is↓ though very full,

is within a hollow still.

The answer lies not in memory,

but in memory in a dream.

"Harry," she asked astonished, "how did you ever see that?"

He shrugged. "Back in school, Melanie used to make up riddles and have me solve them." They all looked at him for saying 'me', but then decided to give up and just let him use whatever pronoun he wanted when referring to Tom Riddle. "And the rest, by the way, is in plain speech; no tricks in the last four lines. They just mean that the pensieve is full of memories and that it is hidden in something hollow. I, as Harry Potter, have never seen this place in real life, but I've dreamt of seeing it in a memory as Tom Riddle, who is obviously the Riddle in the first line. He was born at the orphanage in Little Hangleton. He also met his first wizard at the orphanage, or more specifically at the wall dividing the orphanage's back yard from the estate next to it. The pensieve must be hidden in a hollow block in the wall. To find the right block, we need to stand in front of the middle of the wall, just like you would to get into Diagon Ally, and count the right number of blocks up and the right number over. That formula should give us four words: two numbers and the words 'up' and 'across'."

"But, Harry," Ron asked, "what are the right numbers?"

"The same numbers you would use to get into Diagon Ally," Hermione added, catching on. "But I can't remember the numbers," she added in distress.

"I've never known the numbers to begin with," Ginny confessed, "We normally just floo in." That statement apparently applied to her brother as well as Regulus.

"Well I do remember, because I wanted to make sure I could get there again if I ever needed to," Harry explained, "and I didn't know about or have access to the floo network at the time. The four words are 'three up, two across.' I suppose you'd tap the correct block three times with our wand, since that's what Hagrid did with his umbrella to open the archway."

By five thirty, Minerva McGonagall's owl was on its way to Augusta Longbottom; Augusta herself had already received a letter from Petunia, as had Terry. Neville had been more than a tiny bit shocked to find out that Terry Evans was really Dudley Dursley, but he'd taken it surprisingly well. Terry was thrilled that he would be able to continue his home-schooling, move back in with his mum, and maybe even go to Hogwarts. In anticipation of a letter from the headmistress, Mrs. Longbottom had already begun writing out Terry's transcript.

At Privet Drive, Petunia, her youngest sister Blaire, and Octavian, the later two of whom were expected to move in, were redecorating the house so that it would look more like it had when Petunia, Rose, and Blaire had been children. Rose, who had already reclaimed and redecorated her old room, which the Dursleys had used as a guest bedroom, was in said room, getting ready for the dinner she had been invited to. The letter had said it was nothing fancy and to dress comfortably, but Rose loved dressing up, at least a little bit. So she had put on a magenta robe, which resembled a muggle evening dress, and a rose-pink, light weight cloak which was meant to be for fashion, not for warmth. She had fastened the cloak with a moonstone broach. Her shoes matched her robe and her red hair was loose. Putting the finishing touches on her make-up, she finally went down stairs to the parlor which her sisters and son were currently redecorating.

"You look really nice, Mum," Octavian commented when he saw her enter the room, "but I thought you said the dinner wasn't fancy."

"It isn't, Tave," she told her son, "I just got a feeling that I should dress up tonight. I have no idea why. It's just-"

Her son finished the sentence for her "-one of those seer, third-eye, precognition sensed you and Aunt Blaire get." He rolled his eyes. "Mum, if your seer senses told you you should dress up, then I'm all for it. Far be it from me to argue with the forces of the cosmos." Rose and Blaire laughed at the finality with which he had just made his proclamation. Over the few years he and Rose had lived with Blaire, Octavian had eventually realized that ignoring the gift of Sight was usually not a good idea. When the laughter quieted, both Petunia and Blaire also complimented their sister's attire before telling her to have fun. She assured them with a smile that she would and then apparated from 4 Privet Drive to a spot several houses down from her destination. Her high-heeled shoes made a soft clicking sound as she walked up the sidewalk before she finally arrived at the front door of 12 Grimwald Place, somewhere that she had once, long ago, when her husband was still alive, called home. Pushing away the memories, she reached up to grasp the door knocker and lifted the heavy bronze handle, and then let it fall, causing a fairly loud noise.

Inside the house, the quartet were attempting another series in a long list of Herculean tasks. Hermione was in the parlor with Regulus, trying to force him to stop pacing and sit down. Ginny was in the kitchen, telling Dobby where to put this dish or that plate and making sure he had placed heating charms on them so that they would not get cold.

Harry, as the host was overseeing all of this. He had told everyone earlier that he just had a strange feeling that his aunt would be dressed quite nicely and so they had all decided to be a bit frivolous and transfigure their clothing into dress robes. Regulus could easily do it himself. Ron was determined against the odds to transfigure his own robes. He was upstairs somewhere attempting, and to his distinct shock and delight, succeeding in transfiguring one of his school robes into a burgundy, silk dress robe. He knew his girlfriend would be very proud of him, since he normally was almost as bad at Transfiguration as Seamus Finnegan. For the girls however, Harry had done most of the wand work. After much work, Ginny was wearing a pale yellow dress robe similar to Rose's. Her shoes went from black flats to whit high-heals. She had a string of pearls around her neck, which she had borrowed from her mother. In addition, her Gryffindor scarf had been transfigured into a scarf of shear yellow material that matched her dress. Her hair was pinned up very gracefully. Harry knew Ron would complain that she looked _too_ grown-up, but he was just content to describe her as stunning.

For Hermione, he had transfigured a faded purple shirt and skirt into a brilliant violet colored, full length dress robe. It was fitted at in the torso, but seemed to cascade and float down to her ankles. Over her violet robe, she wore a long, airy, lavender over-robe with bell sleeves and an open front. It was of a similar material to Ginny's scarf. Somehow Harry couldn't quite imagine Ron complaining about_ this_ outfit. At least, not as long as Hermione was the one wearing it. Harry had transfigured a pair of his oversized jeans, one of his school shirts, and an oversized, hoodless, zip-up sweatshirt into an outfit that was reminiscent of muggle clothing from several centuries ago. That hadn't really occurred to Harry though. He had just remembered seeing Lucius Malfoy wearing something like that, and though he nearly hated the man, he did have to admit he had good fashion sense. His tattered jeans had become fitted velvet pants. His school shirt, a white button down cotton material had become a fancy-collared, silver, silk dress-shirt, which was something he formerly never would have imagined himself wearing. Over that, he wore what had formerly been a sweatshirt and was not an emerald green, ornately embroidered, velvet overcoat, which matched his pants perfectly. He had realized that his worn out old trainers would look absurd with the rest of his elegant attire and had transfigured then into black leather boots which came just above his ankles. For his cloak he wore a darker evergreen.

By the time all this was finished and Hermione had finally convinced Regulus to sit down, and by the time everyone was assembled in the parlor, the knock on the front door came. Harry went to answer it as the other three teenagers physically restrained Regulus from jumping out of his chair. When he opened the door, Harry almost stopped breathing from shock. Rose looked _so much _like Melanie. 'She must have been told that she looked exactly like her mother, Heather for her entire life,' he thought as he greeted her and invited her in.

Once they were in the front hall and far enough away from Mrs. Black's portrait that she wouldn't begin shrieking, Harry chose the moment to tell his aunt the real reason she had been invited to dinner at Grimwald Place. "Aunt Rosanne," he said seriously, "before we join everyone in the parlor, I need to talk to you." His expression mirrored his tone in terms of seriousness, but it also conveyed a bit of worry.

"What's the matter Harry? You look worried," she said. He flashed her a brief smile as they sat down on the fancy bench in the hallway. Harry sighed

"Nothing is wrong at all," he replied. She looked at him skeptically. "Really, Aunt Rose, nothing is wrong. I just thought it would be better if I told you before hand instead of just having the news sprung on you when you get to the parlor."

"It would be better if you told me what?" She now seemed the tiniest bit angry, feeling as though someone was trying to trick her.

"May I be blunt," her nephew asked. She nodded. She wanted to know what was going on and she wanted to know now. "Regulus is alive." She heard him say the words. She heard him perfectly, but her mind did not seem to process them at all.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" She spoke with complete calm only because she had not absorbed what her nephew had said.

He repeated himself slowly. "Regulus is alive. Regulus Black, your husband. Aunt Rose, your husband is alive." For a moment, she could only stare at him as Harry's words slowly sunk in. She didn't doubt the truth of them. She trusted Harry.

When she finally found her tongue, she asked, "How do you know he's alive? Where-"

"I know he's alive because he tripped out of the parlor fireplace yesterday and landed on the floor in front of me. As for where he is right now, he's in the parlor, waiting for you." Rose didn't hear a single word after 'parlor'. She immediately got up and rushed down the hallway and into the parlor. When she stepped through the doorway, she froze as she saw the love of her life, a man she had thought dead for over sixteen years, stare back at her, equally as paralyzed with emotion as she was.

**I know the ending is sort of lame, and I must admit, the second part of this chapter is my least favorite part of the story that I have written so far, but I would still like your thoughts on it. Please review and tell me what you thought of Harry's behavior regarding inviting Rose to dinner. Also any comments on the riddle's answer would be much appreciated.**


	9. Chapter 9: The Attack

**Author's Note: The family clock –the one that tells where everyone is- has the name of each person's spouse too, so Lucius would be on the clock because Narcissa is.**

Chapter Nine: The Attack

Andromeda had her back to the wall, and her wand was firmly in her attacker's grasp. She knew she was cornered. She knew she stood very little chance of surving. She knew her husband was already dead and that she was about to be tortured. Worst of all, she knew that the deatheater pointing the wand at her was her own sister. Her sister, like the others who had already been convicted and didn't need to hide their identity, was unmasked, as was the man beside her.

"Go ahead, Bellatrix," Rodolphus urged, "show her why choosing her side was a mistake."

"A mistake?" Andromeda repeated, her voice still strong and full of loathing for the man who had corrupted her sister. "How could choosing to fight for freedom and equality over tyranny and persecution possibly be a mistake?"

The man smirked as he replied, "It is a mistake because it's the loosing side. We shall be victorious and then there will no longer be people like you to disgrace the race of wizards." Turning to his wife, Rodolphus said, "Show her what happens to those who disgrace our kind. Show her what happens to those who stand in our way." The madness that ruled what was left of Bellatrix's mind since her stay in Azkaban gleamed in her eyes.

"How shall I show her, Rodolphus," she asked in her sing-songy voice. "There are just so many fascinating options that I can't choose."

"I think that the same punishment we gave the Longbottoms should do very nicely. Don't you, Bella?" The woman nodded, turning her gaze back to the terriied woman who was trapped against the wall. She raised her wand higher, so that it was pointed directly at Andromeda's heart.

'I will not scream. I will not scream. I will not scream,' the cornered witch mentally vowed. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, preparing for the pain that would come any second now. She held her breath for several moments and yet still the curse had not come.

"what are you waiting for," Rodolphus asked, clearly annoyed. "Just crucio the wench already and let's get a move on before her auror daughter and the girl's 'friends' get here." When the curs didn't instantly follow the man's words, Andromeda took in a deep breath and slowly opened her eyes. She was shocked to see that her sister had lowered her wand an inch or two and was still hesitating, her confidence no longer so abundant. There was even something akin to fear in the ruthless woman's eyes. "I told you to crucio her, Bellatrix," Rodolphus said angrily, "That was an order. Do it. Now." The eldest of the remaining Blacks raised her wand once more, her stance and expression exuding sadistic glee. Her eyes however, painted a completely different picture. It was quite clear to Andromeda, who could easily interpret her sister's emotions, that the woman was struggling fiercely with herself. The seconds ticked away and the deatheater's husband repeated his command, this time in a threatening voice. Bellatrix's wand hand started trembling. She tried to say the curse, but the word would not come out.

Then suddenly, all madness vanished from the woman's eyes and to the shock of everyone else, she quietly nut determinedly said, "No."

"What did you just say," Rodolphus demanded dangerously. Andromeda locked eyes with her sister and her own eyes widened further in surprise at what she saw. By now a small crowd of deatheaters had gathered to watch. They all stared in disbelief as Bellatrix lowered her wand completely to her side and turned to face her husband.

In a furious, hate-filled voice, she repeated, this time louder, "I. Said. No. I am not taking orders from you any longer." For the first time in over a decade and a half, Bellatrix Lestrange's eyes were as clear as the cloudless, blue sky above them.

Her husband's face suddenly became a mask of fury and he cried out, "I don't know how you managed to break the curse, woman, but I swear, you will pay for it, you traitorous, worthless bitch." He raised his wand and shot a spell at his wife. With almost impossible swiftness, Bellatrix, who now had her back to Andromeda, brought up her wand and cast a powerful _protego_, sending the curse back at her husband. Rodolphus was hit with his own spell and was sent sprawling on the gravel street. It then became crystal clear that Bellatrix was no longer on their side.

In reaction, one of the other deatheaters, noticing that Bellatrix still held two wands, her sister's and her own, shouted, "_Accio wands_," and aimed at the traitor. His aim was not perfect however and while it did summon Andromeda's wand, it only managed to pull Bellatrix's from her hand and send it flying through the air. Halfway towards the deatheater, the spell failed and the wand fell to the ground.

Bellatrix had not been the only female deatheater in the inner circle for no reason. She was quite a powerful witch and she could do a fair amount of wandless magic. That ability is what caused the deatheater's summoning spell to falter and what allowed her to call her own wand back into her hand. She ducked a stunner from another deatheater and cast one of her own, rendering him unconscious. And the same time, she wandlessly and wordlessly summoned her sister's wand. Unfortunately, that meant she had to switch her wand to her right hand since she could only do wandless magic with her left. She caught the wand and in one motion, tossed it to her sister and shot a redactor curse into the middle of the small group of just under a dozen deatheaters. Because she had cast it with her right hand, it was not strong enough to kill anyone, but the blast did knock two of them unconscious and cause the rest to scatter in an attempt to get out of the way.

Andromeda, who was no longer cowering against the wall in fear, quickly snapped into auror mode and started firing jinxes, hexes, curses, and stunners at the group surrounding her sister and herself. Most of the spells missed, but one deatheater was stunned and two more had been petrified. Bellatrix, who knew the identity,, and thus the weaknesses of all of their enemies, aimed her want at a particular deatheater and whispered, "_Argentum ardeo_."(1) Wormtail fell to the ground, writhing in pain as his silver arm began to burn with great intensity. 'Well,' she thought, quickly counting the fallen deatheaters, 'that's seven down and six to go.' Within minutes, Wormtail had passed out from the pain.

Taking aim at another deatheater, she cried out in pain and surprise as a cutting curse she had failed to notice hit her in the stomach. The spell seemed to have only grazed her and so the wound was not deep, but it still bled profusely. Trusting her sister would cover her, she turned, wand raised to face the person who had hit her. Apparently, Rodolphus had managed to return to his feet and was now glaring death at her. He raised his wand again and growled, "_Securi ferio_."(2)

Her eyes widened in fear and she cried, "_Saepta adamas_!"(3) A wall of diamond materialized in front of her. The yellow light of the decapitating curse hit the barrier but was unable to break it and was instead absorbed. From behind her unbreakable shield, Bellatrix summoned Rodolphus' wand and knocked him to the ground, unconscious with another reductor curse. Turning back to face the rest of her attackers, she saw that while her sister had indeed been covering for her, she had been doing so by taking many of the hits meant for Bellatrix.

Andromeda was covered in cuts and other bleeding wounds. From the looks of things, she had been hit by at least one reductor curse and been thrown against the stone siding of the house because there was a wound at her temple and another covered by her hair. In the past five minutes, she had stunned two more deatheaters. There were only four of them left now: Rastaban Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy, antonin Dolhov, and Rodophus, who was thankfully unconscious. Quickly, Andromeda dodged a reductor from Dolhov, threw up a protego to block Rastaban's cutting curse, and shot a reductor of her own back at Dolhov. Her aim was true and the man was thrown across the yard o the side walk.

Concentrating on Malfoy, Bellatrix whispered, "_Accio_ Lucius' wand," and the man was de-armed in seconds. Using both wands, hoping that the curse would be powerful enough, -she had used up a great deal of her magical reserve by tapping into her wandless ability so much- she shouted, "_Avada Kedavra_!" She had angled both wands perfectly. The two beams of green light merged just before hitting Lucius directly in the heart. "That man was too dangerous to let live," she said in response to Andromeda's unasked question.

It was only Rastaban left now, or so both women thought until Andromeda fell to the ground after having been hit by yet another blasting curse. Rodolphus apparently did not have the tendency to remain unconscious for long. Unable to get up quickly enough, the prone witch was hit by a cruciatus from Rastaban. She wasn't prepared for the pain and so she couldn't keep herself from screaming in agony.

Bellatrix could do nothing to protect her sister. She had to use both wands to conjure a shield powerful enough to block the burning curse Rodolphus had just thrown at her. Ducking another one of her husband's curses, she pointed her own wand at Rastaban and said, "_Sagittae flagrentes_."(4) A series of flaming arrows rained down upon him and he was forced to ignore Andromeda in favor of protecting himself. Seeing their one opportunity for escape, Bellatrix rushed to her sister and pulled her to her feet. Then with a feather-light charm, she essentially carried the nearly unconscious woman around the corner of the house and towards the back door. Unfortunately, this required that she turn her back to Rodolphus, leaving bother her sister and herself open to attack. They had reached the doorway, Andromeda actually inside and her sister on the porch. She heard her husband shout out the decapitating curse again and she just barely managed to turn around quickly enough to throw up the diamond shield. Blindly, she shot a stupefy in what she hoped was the direction of her pursuer before throwing herself through the doorway, slamming it shut, and transfiguring it into iron.

Looking around the unfamiliar room, Bellatrix, who sat on the floor next to Andromeda with her back to the wall, searched for the fireplace. "Thank Merlin," she whispered breathlessly when she saw that there was a fireplace in the room, as well as floo powder. Her feeling of relief was short-lived because the door had been transfigured to wood once again. Frantically, she stood and struggled with the limp form of her barely conscious sister. Realizing that she had dropped the feather-light charm, she recast it and headed with all the speed she could muster toward the fireplace. Just as she reached it, the door was shattered by a blasting curse and Rodolphus, looking like the Devil himself, stalked into the room.

Immediately, he shot a cruciatus at Bellatrix, who fell to the floor, just inside the fireplace. After a few moments he sent a very powerful cutting curse toward the two women, which hit Bellatrix in the shoulder and a reductor curse that blasted away part of the mantle. Rodolphus's wife could do nothing to defend herself because she was using her left arm to hold up her sister and she had been forced to put away her wand to hold the floo powder, which was their only chance of escape, or of survival. She was hit by another cruciatus curse and two more sectumsempras (one to her right arm and the other to her face) before she managed to maneuver herself so that her left hand was free, even though she was holding up Andromeda. Her husband luckily seemed to want her to die a gory death because he stopped using Crucio and hadn't attempted to use the killing curse. Instead, he threw a particularly nasty dark curse t her, one which caused internal bleeding and hemorrhaging of the main arteries. She used the last of her energy to conjure up a wandless shielding charm. Simultaneously, she threw down the floo powder, rasping out the words, "Twelve Grimwald Place."

Seconds later, Bellatrix, who was bleeding profusely, and Andromeda who had been knocked unconscious by a piece of debris from the mantle, both fell out of the fireplace and landed on the foyer floor. Seeing through rapidly dimming vision that she was safe and at _home_, Bellatrix finally fainted from blood loss and over exertion.

Meanwhile, the Quartet and Regulus were in the parlor. Hermione was franticly firecalling various offices at the ministry in an attempt to find Tonk's whereabouts. None of her co-workers knew where she had gone after leaving work. Ron, after much guesswork as to where they all might be, had finally contacted the Order and they were on their way to the Tonks' Residence posthaste. When Ron returned from the kitchen to the parlor to tell everyone, the news suddenly became a moot point because Andromeda's hand had moved from 'mortal peril' to 'home', though it still glowed with the motal peril alert charm. Over the past forty-five minutes, many of the hands on the clock had moved several times each. Lucius Malfoy's hand had gone from 'Unknown' to 'Relative's House' to 'In Danger' and to 'Mortal Peril' before returning to its original position. Rodolphus Lestrange's hand had also moved from 'Unknown' to 'Relative's House' to 'In Trouble' to 'In Danger' to 'Relative's House' again and then back to 'In Danger'. Ted Tonks' hand had gone, in a matter of seconds from 'Other Residence' to 'Mortal Peril' to finally rest on 'Unknown'. Tonks' hand had moved from 'Work' to 'At a Friend's House' and was currently pointing to 'Traveling'. Hopefully that meant she had gotten the message. Andromeda's hand had gone from 'At a Friend's House' to 'Other Residence' to 'In Danger', where it had remained for half an hour before moving to 'Mortal Peril', where it remained for fifteen minutes before moving to 'Home'. They all would have rushed into the foyer had it not been for the location of Bellatrix Lestrange's hand. Her hand, like Lucius' and Rodolphus' had moved from 'Unknown' to 'Relative's House', but then had abruptly shifted to 'Mortal Peril', where it had remained for the past forty minutes. The thing that prevented anyone from entering the foyer though was the fact that, with the mortal peril alert still glowing, her hand had also moved to 'HOME'.

**REVIEWS EQUAL CHAPTERS!!!**

**Spell Translations: (1) argentum ardeo "I burn the silver", (2) secure ferio decapitate, (3) saepta adamas diamond shield, lit. "shield diamond', (4) sagittae flagrentes flaming arrows.**


	10. Chapter 10: Old Temptations

**Author's Note: I want to thank an anonymous reviewer who signed his/her review "Shinigami". I would also like to answer his/her questions since I can not reply to the review. Regarding Sirius-good job, you're the first person to catch that. Ted was killed at the beginning of the attack. (His hand went to 'Unknown' because the afterworld is not known. Yes, Sirius knew that Regulus and Rose got married. Melanie knew nothing about the prophecy. She decided to die because it was either her or Regulus. In her opinion, he was young and had his whole life ahead of him. She was only fifty-four, but she had already lost everything she thought was worth living for.**

Chapter Ten- Old Temptations

"Oh, shit," Ron swore, "What do we do?"

"We get a mediwitch or wizard," Harry answered, his voice abnormally detatched. When no one moved to do anything, Harry nearly hissed, "Ginny, I want you to find Nymphadora Tonks. Hermione, find me a healer, I don't care who, as long as it's someone we can trust. Ron, contact the Order again. We need Kingsley Shacklebolt. We can't get Moody. He needs to be at the scene of the attack. Who the hell is probably as good at- nevermind. We don't need Moody. McGonagall will do."

"McGonagall," Ron repeated skeptically. Harry sent him a glare that could rival one of Snape's and the youngest of the Weasley boys practically ran back to the kitchen to contact the Order again. Hermione went over to the fireplace in the parlor, where they all currently were gathered and began contacting possible healers. Ginny told Harry that Tonks was probably outside because her hand was moving toward 'Home'.

"Good," Harry replied, "Talk to her. Keep her occupied. DO NOT let her see her mother, not until Andromeda is in stable condition." Ginny did as she was told and was already opening the door before Tonks had even apparated onto the front porch.

"Hi, Ginny." Tonks greeted her distractedly. "What's going on? I was on my way to an Order meeting when Mcgonagall's patronus showed up and told me to come here instead. I tried to floo in, but all the grates were unavailable! Was there an attack or-"

"Yes, there was an attack. We just needed you to come here so you would be protected," the red-head half-lied, "since they suspected you might be a target." She then led Tonks upstairs, where she kept talking and talking, just to keep the young auror from going downstairs.

Without being ordered to do so, but assuming that since Harry was in Tom Riddle-mode, then he probably would have ordered him to, Regulus went to ward the foyer until McGonagall and Shacklebolt arrived. When Harry turned to give an order to Regulus and found that his uncle was no longer in the room, he shouted the man's name. "I'm warding the foyer until back up gets here," Regulus shouted back, "I sent an extra stunner at Bellatrix, just to be _sure_ she doesn't wake up too soon." Harry approved that plan of action and then turned to face Ron and Hermione, both of whom were standing practically at attention.

"Hermione, you first," he said, cuing her to give a report.

"Well, I contacted Madame Pomfrey, she was the first person I could think of. She said she would apparate somewhere down the street a little and that she was brining your aunt, Petunia, who is apparently also a mediwitch, with her." When she finished her 'report' the amber-eyed witch inhaled deeply, having said all that in just one breath.

"Ron?"

"McGonagall and Shacklebolt are on their way." Harry nodded. For once he was grateful for his best friend's succinctness.

"Both of you, go to the front hall and wait for the others to arrive. When they do, Ron you give a full report of all you know about what's going on to McGonagall. Hermione, likewise, do the same with Pomfrey. I'm going to the foyer to help Regulus ward the room." With that, Harry stalked out of the room.

As Ron and Hermione made their way to the front hall, Ron muttered, "That was a bit scary back there."

"More than a bit," Hermione commented.

"I feel like this is Headquarters again, only this time _we're_ the ones running around like chickens with our heads cut off, trying to get control of a situation," he continued. Then he was quiet for a while as they waited. A little less than five minutes later, McGonagall, Shacklebolt, Madam Pomfrey, and Petunia arrived.

"Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall asked, "What is so urgent that you have need of two healers, an auror, and the head of the Order of the Phoenix?" The two students were about to give their reports when suddenly, Mrs. Black began shrieking about the matter. Down the hall, in the foyer doorway, Harry heard the portrait and immediately barked out another order to Regulus.

"Go shut that woman up. Now. If she keeps yelling about Andromeda being in the house, she'll say something about Andromeda being close to death."

Nodding in understanding, Regulus dashed down the hallway and pointing his wand at his mother's portrait, shouted, "_Silencio_!" It would only silence her for about ten seconds, but it was long enough for him to yank the curtains shut and recast the sealing charm. When he turned to face all the other people in the hallway, he noticed that half of them (McGonagall, Shacklebolt, and Pomfrey) were giving him the same disbelieving look that he had been met with when he first stumbled out of the fireplace the day before yesterday. "I'm…er…not Sirius. I'm Regulus and I'd really appreciate it if you didn't attempt to arrest me."

"Ron!" all of them jumped when they heard Harry shout out his name.

"What, Harry?"

"I just realized that the ministry needs to be alerted about the attack as well. Try to get a hold of your father. Professor, Madame Pomfrey, Shacklebolt, and Aunt Petunia, you're needed in the foyer. McGonagall and Shacklebolt first, please. Hermione, you stay here and observe what's going on. When I return, I expect a full-detailed report. Regulus, you're on portrait patrol. I'm going to find out why Andromeda was targeted and why Voldemort sent almost the entire inner circle to the attack." Having given these orders, Harry walked briskly past the others and was already standing on the bottom step before Ron stopped him.

"How are going to find that out, mate?"

"By taking a nap," Harry answered, quite seriously. Everyone gaped at him, completely puzzled, except Hermione.

"Harry James Potter, Don't You _Dare_!" She shrieked. "You are _not_ going into Voldemort's mind!"

"I shall do whatever I please," he said coldly, slipping even further into his Tom Riddle persona. "He probably won't even recognize me, besides, I know Occulemency and Legilimency now."

"You do _not_," Hermione argued.

"Yes, I do. The locket had memories up to the age of thirty-five. I was already a master at both by that age."

"Stop using the first pronoun when referring to him," Hermione shouted, quite angry.

"Stop using the third person pronoun when referring to the person with whom you are speaking," Harry countered. She glowered at him.

"You. Are. NOT-"

"Hermione," he growled, "do you not remember what my memory self said to me in the Chamber of Secrets. 'Voldemort is my past, my present, and my future.' I am who I am. You cannot change that. Nor will I put up with you if you attempt to stand in my way. I will do as _I_ see fit Be lucky I am holding my tongue, _Mione_," he sneered, "or I would have called you another nickname beginning with 'M'. And it would not have been 'muggleborn'." He didn't even bother to finish ascending the stairs, instead choosing to apparate directly to his room. Nobody even noticed that he already knew who had been sent on the attack.

"Miss Granger," McGonagall began, before Regulus interrupted her and pulled Hermione aside into the library, where no one else could hear them.

"Sorry for cutting off the professor, but from first hand experience, I suggest that you first of all, _never _question him, and second of all, do not ignore his orders. That means, Hermione," the man said, his voice a little softer when talking to the already upset girl, "that you pretend he did not just insult or berate you. All you do is act as his eyes and his ears."

"You've taken it upon yourself to be his second in command, have you?" Hermione glared at Regulus as she demanded this.

"Well, yes, seeing as I am the only one who knows at least a tiny bit about how this man works."

"What do you mean _this man_," she cried, outraged, "We are talking about _Harry!_"

"No, Hermione, we are not," the blue-eyed wizard explained gently. "We are talking about a boy named Harry Potter who has the memories of a man named Tom Riddle and some memories of a monster named Vol-Voldemort." Regulus shuddered, not having said his former master's name aloud in nearly two decades. "We are dealing with a wizard who is neither a boy, nor a man, but who is, for all intents and purposes, a strange combination of all three people."

"Then why treat him like, Voldemort? Why not treat him like Harry," Hermione questioned.

"I'm not treating him like V-Voldemort. I am treating him like some one who is acting like a cross between Harry Potter and V-Vol- damn it!- _Voldemort_. I am also erring on the side of safety and so I am treating him with the caution I would use when interacting with V-Voldemort."

"If he's a mix of Harry Potter, Tom Riddle, and Voldemort and he's acting like a cross between Harry Potter and Voldemort, which one do we identify him with, assuming we had to pick just one?"

"I'd say Tom Riddle, since he seems to be halfway between Harry and V- screw this- the Dark Lord."

"Great, wonderful," Hermione muttered darkly. Then she inhaled and exhaled loudly.

"Don't explain any of this to the others," Regulus advised her, referring to the adults excluding himself, "without his permission or he will be furious." She just nodded and they returned to the hallway.

"Scuse me, where's Harry," Ron asked. Hermione glared at him. "Well, I suppose I'll just tell you, Professor. The ministry has sent the Order back up at the Tonks residence. I'm supposed to brief all four of you. Regulus, Hermione, and Ginny have different orders. Regulus, they're both still unconscious, right?" The man nodded. Ron looked relieved. "Good, cause I don't care how hurt she might be, Bellatrix Lestrange is dangerous."

"Go on, you two, bring them into the foyer. I'm on portrait duty. Ginny's on distracting Nymphadora duty, and Harry is fishing through the Dark Lord's mind. So, Ron, I suppose that leaves you in charge of the danger zone." After saying this, he went back down the hall to the portrait. Everyone else anxiously and yet reluctantly followed Ron to the foyer as he explained what had been going on for the last few hours.

When he finished, he added for the medi-witches' benefit, "It's pretty logical to assume that Andromeda's the priority."

Suddenly Hermione added, "But I am willing to bet anything that Harry wants Bellatrix Lestrange alive and healthy enough to survive interrogation. He'll also probably have a fit if anyone other than himself is the one to interrogate her." The four adults looked at her questioningly, still unsure about what the scene in the hallway had been about. The brooding young witch however, did not say a further word. Seeing that the interrogation was the reason they were presumably there, McGonagall and Shacklebolt stood back, out of the way, allowing Madame Pomfrey to examine and assess each of her patients' status. Somehow, the Hogwarts medi-witch was able to bustle around as if one of her patients was not one of _the most notorious_ deatheaters currently at large. After performing numerous scans and spells on both patients, she turned to the others and announced her diagnosis.

Petunia paid sharp attention, knowing that she would be treating one or the other of the two. Hermione, despite her mood, decided she might as well be as attentive to detail as possible, since she wasn't one to ever do a job less than perfectly if she could help it. As leader of the Order, Minerva assumed she would be the one primarily addressed. It was therefore very unexpected when Pomfrey addressed her assessment to Ron. "Mr. Weasley, I don't quite understand what the operation taking place here is, but since both Mr. Potter and Mr. Black made it quite clear that _you_ were in charge of the going-ons of this room, I take it that I should probably be 'reporting' to you." During this speech, Ron' face had gone nearly as red as his hair and McGonagall wondered, not for the first time that afternoon, what on earth was going on. "You said Andromeda was the priority, so I assume you want to hear her diagnosis first?" Ron managed to nod in confirmation, very much embarrassed and proud that he was being viewed in such a light of authority. "Very well. Based on visible evidence alone, I can tell you that Mrs. Tonks was hit by multiple -and when I say multiple, I mean quite numerous- cutting curses. The wounds on her head and back imply that she was hit with more than one blasting curse. She appears to have been thrown against a wall- probably made of stone- at some point towards the middle of the struggle. Only a few minutes before her arrival here, a piece of debris, again probably from a misfired blasting curse, impacted with the side of her skull. She has a slight concussion from that, but I believe that she was nearly unconscious by that time anyway. My scans show that she was briefly held under the Cruciatus, but there is no permanent damage from the curse. The only reason she is in such perilous condition is due to blood loss." A quick glance from the senior medi-witch sent Petunia to the side of the conjured cot to tend to Andromeda's injuries. The change of focus from Poppy to Petunia was only temporary because everyone else in the room was quite curious as to what had happened to place Bellatrix in such a precarious condition. "As for Mrs. Lestrange," Poppy continued, "she seems to have suffered far more serious injuries than her sister. She was hit by four cutting curses: one that grazed her face, another which hit her right arm, a third much more powerful one to the shoulder, and a fourth potentially deadly hit to the abdomen. Because of these, she is suffering from extreme bloodloss. In addition, she was held under two particularly violent Cruciatus curses for an extended period of time. There is a noticeable amount of damage to her nerves, but nothing that cannot be at least partially healed. Last of all, it seems that Mrs. Lestrange has the ability to use wandless magic. Her magical energy reserve is severely depleted in such a manner that could only have been achieved in the given time frame of the struggle by means of accessing her wandless abilities." After pausing a moment to consider all those factors, she informed everyone that the supposed deatheater would not be able to do any magic –wandless or otherwise- for at least two days, while her magic reserve replenished itself. She would also need a blood transfusion. Because of her rare blood type, no one in the room –even if they had been willing –had compatible blood. Ron called in Regulus who, as it turned out, _did_ have the same blood type as his older cousin. He allowed Madame Pomfrey to draw some of his blood to make the transfusion. Then he returned to the hallway.

A short while later Petunia announced that Andromeda was in stable condition. Ron went upstairs, retrieving Ginny and Nymphadora, the latter of whom became quite worried when told that her mother had been the target of the attack. The three of them arrived in the foyer, which was now a make-shift hospital ward, and upon seeing her mother, Tonks rushed to the woman's bedside and sat down next to the cot in one of the chairs which had been pulled over from the other side of the room. She then sat quietly, completely oblivious to everyone but Andromeda, who she now knew was her only living parent. Pomfrey in the meantime healed all of Bellatrix's visible wounds and completed the blood transfusion. When this was finished, she stood back and assessed her work, running all the necessary scans to make sure that everything was working well. After getting a particular result from one of the scans, she frowned. "Oh, dear," she muttered.

"What," asked Ginny curiously.

"Well," Poppy replied still frowning, "Her nerves are not healing naturally, as they normally would, because her magic level is just too low. It the damage to her nervous system is not repaired immediately, her other injuries put her at risk of falling into a coma."

Startling everyone in the room, Minerva, whose presence had nearly been forgotten, inquired, "Is there nothing you can do to aid her natural healing process, Poppy?" The medi-witch shook her head in the negative.

"I know something that would work," Ginny offered against her better judgment. McGonagall, Pomfrey, and Petunia all turned to gaze at her with interest. "It's a potion Harry made for when he used to have nightmares about Voldemort," she explained, now more reluctantly. "It's an anti-cruciatus potion apparently and I'm pretty sure there is some up in his room. I'm not so sure he'd be pleased about it being used on Bellatrix, but I'll go get it if it's absolutely necessary." After being assured by Madame Pomfrey that it was indeed most important, the red-haired girl hurried back upstairs and returned a moment later with a vial of neon blue potion. "Here," she said, handing it too the medi-witch, "Only use half the bottle and hurry, because Harry is waking up and I have a funny feeling that he isn't going to be too happy."

Suddenly, Regulus, who was on clock-monitoring duty, as well as portrait duty, called from the hall, "Ron, quick, switch places with me!" Remus Lupin isjust outside the front door and if I'm the first thing he sees, he'll probably have a heart attack or something." Sharing the man's opinion, Ron dashed out of the foyer and Regulus dashed toward it.

"Regulus, morph into something he wouldn't recognize, okay," Ron told his best friend's uncle as the passed each other in the hallway. Regulus merely nodded affirmatively. Ron reached the door just as the knock came. Catching his breath, he opened the door to find the preoccupied werewolf standing in front of him. "Hi, professor," he greeted.

"Hello, Ron," Remus replied, stepping inside. Then he asked worriedly, "Has something happened to Nymphadora? A distress alarm went off on my clock at home just a short while ago." Ron pushed away his slight surprise and explained what had happened in regards to the man's girlfriend. At first, Remus had looked highly anxious when he was told that Bellatrix was at Grimwald Place, but he calmed down perceptibly once Ron assured him that the supposed deatheater was basically magicless, not to mention unconscious and being held in the presence of three aurors and one former auror. Ron did admit however, that one of the aurors (Andromeda) was also and unconscious and that another (Tonks) was in a state of emotional shock. By the time the two had reached the foyer, Regulus had managed to make himself all but invisible to the slightly older man who went to comfort the devastated young woman who was still staring unblinkingly at her mother's unconscious form.

Apparently the shock had affected Tonks quite strongly, for she was traumatized enough to unknowingly morph back to her natural appearance, which only Remus, the Hogwarts Headmistress, and Andromeda had ever seen. Her hair had grown out to reach just a little past her shoulders. It was slightly wavy and black, curling in at the ends. Her eyes had gone from purple to dark navy-blue, not unlike Regulus, her mother, and her aunt. For the first time, it was abundantly obvious from her appearance that she was a Black.

All of the sudden, without any warning, the sealing charm on the curtains covering Mrs. Black's portrait wore off and the woman began shrieking her disapproval of the presence of Remus (a halfbreed), Andromeda (a bloodtraitor), and Tonks (a half-blood). This nearly startled a few people (namely Petunia and Madame Pomfrey) into jumping at the unexpected clamor. Regulus was about to go subdue his mother when there was a second noise of even more prodigious volume. From upstairs there came the sound of a door being slammed open with enough force to be heard above the portrait's yelling. This deafening _bang_, which really sounded more like a _boom_, was immediately followed by a very loud series of noised that no one in the foyer was even remotely capable of imitating. When they heard footsteps on the stairs, it soon became obvious (to almost everyone) that Harry was hissing furiously in parseltongue. Even Regulus, who had heard the Dark Lord rant and rave in the snakelanguage many times, had forgotten that it was possible to be that _loud_ in parseltongue. He also hadn't remembered that mere hissing could sound so very enraged, intimidating, and _violent_. From these three qualities of the boy's voice, Regulus assumed that his nephew was likely to be swearing abhorrently.

Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, Harry let out a hiss that seemed to be separate from the rant. There was another_ bang_ and Mrs. Black fell silent. Resuming his rant, the infuriated young wizard stormed into the foyer, his wand out in his _left_ hand and his emerald eyes flecked with red. Entering the room, he fell silent. Everyone else eyed him with more than a little trepidation. No one spoke as his bloodstone-like eyes passed over each one of them in a venomous, calculating glare that frankly terrified them all. Ignoring the four wands being pointed at him by McGonagall, Kinsley, Remus, and Petunia, Harry turned his attention to the youngest person in the room, his girlfriend. "Ginerva," he hissed, though this time in English, "You entered my room and removed from it one of my possessions without my permission while I was in a trance. What is the meaning of this?"

"M-Madame Pomfrey said that if Bellatrix's nerves weren't healed, she'd fall into a coma," the girl answered, her small frame and her voice trembling. "I only did it because I kn-" After catching the look of warning Regulus was giving her, she changed her wording, "_anticipated_ that you would want to question her. I was only doing my best to-" Seeing Harry in such a strange mood gave her the strangest urge to say 'serve'. "-help you." After starring at her piercingly for an instant longer, Harry shifted his still furious gaze to Regulus.

"Black," he demanded, unable to keep himself from addressing his uncle he way Voldemort would have, "you were _sighted_ and recognized on your way here." He paused to let Regulus, who had morphed back to his natural form, consider the implications of this statement. The poor man, who was now standing directly in front of Harry, dropped to one knee, both out of instinct and in a conscious attempt to appease the boy who was once more reminding him far too much of the Dark Lord. This action seemed to give the terrifying wizard some satisfaction, but his voice was no less furious than before. "You were _sighted_, by a deatheater, one of those who was well aware that you were supposedly killed and why, one who is capable of entering this house. Do you now where, with whom, and by whom you were seen?" Harry demanded. When there was not an instantaneous reply, he decided to simply inform him. "You _fool_! You were seen with Narcissa Malfoy, who is currently being hunted down for treason against the Dark Lord. You were seen at a location in very close proximity to the Tonks residence by none other than Narcissa's own son. Though the boy hardly wishes his mother dead, Draco did not stand a chance against the Dark Lord's legilimency. After this information was pulled from the boy's mind, it was ascertained that Narcissa was hiding under the Fidelus charm and that her sister, Andromeda was her secret keeper. That is why the entire inner circle was sent on the attack! Therefore," he hissed menacingly, "You not only caused an attack and caught Voldemort's attention, but you then proceeded to floo here from an insecure location, leading Draco, and through him his master, to _my _residence, thereby compromising _my _security." Regulus was quite literally petrified with fear. The young wizard in front of him was radiating fury, power, and darkness, and this time, it was _not_ a glamour. Everyone else was too shocked to say or do anything.

Harry himself was enraged beyond anything he had ever felt before. He knew that a part of this was Voldemort's darkness encroaching upon him. He knew that some of his rage was not his own, but he was far past the point of keeping in control. He could feel the same familiar evil, the same warring within his soul which he had experienced decades ago. It took every ounce of will power he possessed to resist the temptation of Crucio-ing Regulus and out right Avada-ing Bellatrix. He fought those temptations with all his strength, but he could not suppress the impulse to at least punish, to _hurt_ the man who was at the moment the object of his anger. And so, without really thinking about it, without considering any consequences other than those that would placate his emotions, he reached out toward the kneeling man with his mind and hissed a word venomously in parseltongue. The result was immediate. Regulus' face blanched, draining of all color. Pain flared up from his dark mark and waves of it traveled up his arm to his shoulder before spreading like wildfire through the rest of his body. Harry could not think. All he knew was the intense desire to cause pain. It didn't matter that Regulus didn't deserve it, or that this was someone Harry supposedly cared about. All that mattered was that he found an outlet for the rage that threatened to choke him. It was strangling him, this feeling, and in a desperate attempt to find relief from the madness that seemed to be consuming his very soul, he gathered all his cruel impulses and lashed out through the only channel he could.

Suddenly, pain as terrible as that of the worst Cruciatus burned through Regulus' nerves and his knees gave out beneath him as he began screaming in agony. At first, his actions did not truly register in Harry's mind. He first felt the rush of the drug-like high as dark magic seethed out of him, and next the beginning of relief as the darkness within loosened its stranglehold on him. For a few seconds longer, he reveled in the sadistic pleasure the sound of his victim's screams gave him, until finally, the fury seeped out and his mind was quite suddenly aware again.

Realizing what he had done, Harry froze in fear and horror. 'I should _not _be able to manipulate the Dark Mark. Oh, how am I going to get out of this one?' Harry found an excuse in the most unlikely of places. A shaking Regulus pulled himself up from the floor. Trying to repress a shudder, the man shook his head to clear it.

"Bloody hell, if I thought you were angry, then the Dark Lord is ten times more so!" Harry nearly died in relief when it became clear that his uncle and likely everybody else truly believed that Voldemort had bean the one to torture Regulus. Thoe Boy-Who-Lived did not let it show however. Instead, he plastered a shocked, concerned, and apologetic expression on his face.

Looking properly aghast, the emerald-eyed teenager said, "Uncle Regulus, are you all right? Merlin, I should have warned you that he was so angry. I'm _so_ sorry. Here, let me help you." Harry helped him limp over to a chair. Then, without turning away, he said, "Ginny, hand me whatever is left of the anti-cruciatus potion." A moment later, a half-full bottle of neon blue liquid was placed in his hand. Not quite sure what the damage to Regulus' nerves actually was, but assumed based on the way he had been screaming that it was pretty bad, Harry instructed that his uncle drink the other half of the potion. Regulus complied and a few minutes later, the tremors that ere wracking his body ceased. In the silence that followed, everyone heard Alastor Moody's voice calling from the kitchen fireplace.

McGonagall, after ascertaining that no one was any longer in any physical danger, went into the other room to find out the results of the Order's mission. Silently, Ginny followed the headmistress. Minerva did not very much appreciate being under the surveillance of a barely sixteen-year-old girl, but seeing no harm in it, allowed her to listen to the Auror's report. A short time later, McGonagall and Ginny returned to the foyer. Minerva announced that she and Kinsley needed to return to headquarters, but that Tonks and Remus could remain if they wished to. Then she and Shacklebolt departed for headquarters. After making sure that Petunia could handle both patients, Madame Pomfrey followed suit.

Once they were gone, Harry decided it would be better if they all simply remained in the foyer and held their 'meeting' there, since Tonks and Remus, as well as Petunia all needed to remain in the make-shift hospital ward. Everyone, including Harry was a bit shaken by his earlier display, so before the meeting was permitted to commence, Remus intelligently insisted that they all take a few minutes to gather their wits. Finally, Harry, true to his word, asked Hermione for a full report of the events he had missed. She gave him the report in full detail, even managing to repeat Madame Pomfrey's diagnosis of both Andromeda and Bellatrix verbatim. Pleased with this, Harry turned to Ginny and asked her what Moody had told McGonagall.

"First of all," his girlfriend began, "Lucius Malfoy is dead, hit by a _double_ Avada Kedavra. Apparently Andromeda had assistance." The red-head paused and eyed the unconscious form of Bellatrix Lestrange with a new fascination. "The Order captured the Lestrange brothers and had brought them to an undisclosed location for interrogation. This was before the ministry Aurors arrived. The ministry incarcerated Augustus Rookwood, Antonin Dolhov, and What's–his-face McNair. That must be a slap in the face to Voldemort. The same day you break some of your followers out of Azkaban again, they just get imprisoned, _again._ Anyway, the rest escaped. That's all I know." Harry nodded before loosing himself in thought.

When he came back to himself, he noticed that hit was nearly time for dinner. It being a Tuesday and there being an Order meeting, the quartet had no obligation to attend dinner at the Burrow, and so, after asking everyone else if they wanted anything to eat, Harry called Dobby and asked him to prepare a light meal, offering –as a placation to Hermione- to help the house elf it assistance was needed. Dobby assured his 'employer' that he could make the dinner on his own. A while later, all of them took their meal in the foyer so that Remus, Tonks, and Petunia would not be excluded. Once dinner was concluded, it was agreed upon that Tonks (after much persuasion on Remus' part) would sleep upstairs, not in the foyer. Perunia would be sleeping in the foyer to keep an eye of both of her patients. Remus, Regulus, and Harry would be rotating 'guard duty' during the night, just incase. Remus had the first shift and so, having had an extremely long day, everyone else traipsed upstairs and went to sleep.


	11. Chapter 11: Occulemency, Veritaserum, an

Chapter Eleven: Occulemency, Veritaserum, and Owls

Meanwhile, far away in his secret stronghold, Lord Voldemort sat alone in the dark, otherwise empty throne room. It was nearly midnight, and he had dismissed his servants hours ago, but he was too busy thinking for his mind to allow him the luxury of sleep, and so he remained where he was, mulling over the disastrous events of the day. Early that morning, he had been confident and very pleased. He had once more broken his inner circle out of prison and had a seemingly fool-proof plan to eliminate the threat posed by the apparently not-so-loyal Narcissa Malfoy. The plan had gone perfectly at first. His death eaters had stormed the residence of Narcissa's sister, Andromeda Tonks, killing the woman's husband and preparing to torture the witch herself, who was acting as Narcissa's secret keeper, into revealing her sister's location. Then, in a matter of minutes, the whole operation had been shot to hell. The dark lord fumed as he mentally reviewed the damage that had been done to his inner circle. In under an hour and a half, he had permanently lost his two most high-ranking followers. Out of the twelve he had sent on the mission, only five had returned: Avery, Nott, Wormtail, Snape, and the new spy which he had placed within the ministry. It had vexed him to no end that Snape and the spy were the only truly valuable servants who had managed to escape. Rookwood and Dolhov had been apprehended by the Ministry. The Lestrange brothers were no where to be found, and Lucius Malfoy was dead. To top that all off, Bellatrix Lestrange had turned traitor, Andromeda Tonks had gotten away to safety, and they were now far less close to capturing Narcissa Malfoy than they had been earlier that morning.

After hearing these reports, the Dark Lord had been too furious to even curse anyone without killing or at least maiming them. So he had dismissed all of his servants, ordering them to remain out of his presence until further notice. Very shortly after the dismissal, something had happened that at first puzzled and then actually worried him. The last of his death eaters had just apparated away when suddenly, he had felt one of his followers' marks flare up violently. How was that possible? Voldemort himself had done nothing! There was no way that anyone else could manipulate the dark mark, except perhaps the Potter boy. But the idea that the boy could possibly be aware of that ability was absolutely ludicrous. Still, just to be sure, Voldemort had reached out his mind through the link the two shared, planning to simply leaf through the boy's mind until he was satisfied with what he found. When he had reached the boundaries of Potter's consciousness, however, he was met with a solid steel wall. When the hell had the boy learned occulemency? Thinking it must be some kind of trick, he pushed at the wall, expecting them to brake, but they had proved impenetrable and, in the end, the Dark Lord had retreated back to the confines of his own mind. It appeared that before he died, the old fool must have taught the boy the art of occulemency.

That matter, combined with the possibly disastrous results of Bellatrix's betrayal had kept Voldemort awake. Casting a _tempus_ charm, he saw that it was now quarter before one in the morning. With an irate hiss, he rose from his throne and stalked out of the room and down a series of unlit corridors before he arrived in his own chambers.

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Morning the next day was a sort of organized chaos at the Longbottom residence. It all began sometime around eight thirty when no less than four owls unexpectedly came soaring in the kitchen window. One of them was a tawny owl, which belonged to the headmistress of Hogwarts. One was the eagle owl that, they had learned, was in possession of Petunia Evans. The third was a non-descript barn owl. The last was the snowy owl, which Neville and Terry both recognized as Hedwig. The 'peck of owls', as Terry had termed it with a laugh, had arrived mid-breakfast, surprising all three of the people sitting at the table. Terry was sitting between the table and the wall and so would have had a hard time getting up. Neville, who saw this and didn't want his gran to trouble herself with getting up, was the one to take the letters that each of the owls had delivered. After their burdens had been removed, the owls departed via the window through which they had entered. Looking down at the four envelopes in his hands, Neville noticed that they were all addressed to Terry. He flipped through them, one by one, handing them to his friend as he read out loud who each letter was from.

"This one must be from your mum," Neville said, handing the other boy the letter the eagle owl had delivered. Terry glanced at the handwriting on the envelope.

"Actually, it's not. This isn't her handwriting. It must be from one of my aunts, who she wrote are living with her." In this presumption, Terry had been correct. Rose had been the one to write the letter. It explained that his mother was on an unexpected business trip –Terry had yet to learn what his mum's job was- and wouldn't be back for at least another day. The letter that Hedwig had delivered _was_ from Petunia, to the confusion of all present parties. It said much the same as Rose's letter, adding that tomorrow, Petunia would be coming to pick her son up. The third letter, the one delivered by the barn owl, was from the ministry of magic. It read:

_Mr. Terrence Evans,_

_Your request that your name legally be changed from Dudley Terrence Dursley to Terrence John Evans had been granted. From this point forward, all legal documents and records pertaining to your person shall address you as Terrence John Evans. Please be advised of this and take care to sign anything under that name. Any legal document signed under the name Dudley Dursley or any name save Terrence Evans will be considered void and/or fraud._

_Rosanne Elizabeth Evans_

_Head of the Department of Records_

_The Ministry of Magic_

"Wow," Neville commented after the other boy finished reading the letter outloud, "Your aunt is the head of the Department of Records."

"I guess she got her old job back," Terry stated. Then he looked up at Neville. "So who's the last one from?"

"Professor McGonagall," Neville replied, handing Terry the last letter, which was considerably thicker than the others had been. The emerald green ink and the handwriting both looked familiar. They reminded Terry of all the letters his cousin had been sent seven years ago. Turning the envelope over to open it, he saw that it was sealed with the Hogwarts crest. His eyes widened and he was suddenly nervous and excited. Holding his breath, he opened the envelope, pulling out the several page-long letter, and began to silently read the first page to himself.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

Of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Headmistress: MINERVA MCGONAGALL

Dear Mr. Evans,

After recent correspondence with your mother, Ms. Petunia Evans and your temporary guardian and instructor, Mrs. Augusta Longbottom, I am pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It has been decided, based on your transcript, that you shall be placed in third year once you have been sorted with the rest of this year once you have been sorted with the rest of this coming year's students. Please find, enclosed, a list of all the necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. Due to the peculiar nature of your admittance to this school, there is no need to send an owl in reply, as we have been assured that you will be attending.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

_Headmistress_

When he finished reading the letter, Terry let out a loud _whoop_ and somehow managed to jump up from his seat. "I did it Nev! I did it! I got in! I'm going to HOGWARTS!" Neville joined his overjoyed friend in cheering.

"Congratulations, Terry. I think you're the only person who has ever had their Hogwarts letter not only delivered by the headmistress' own owl, but had their letter written by the headmistress herself." Neville was correct. Terrence John Evans was the first student to ever receive his Hogwarts letter from the headmistress or headmaster. And as of that year, he would be the only student thus addressed, for all the other letters, to be delivered in one week's time, would be written by the new deputy headmaster, Professor Filius Flitwick.

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Morning at number twelve Grimwald Place, on the other hand, was a completely unrestrained chaos, or at least it started out that way. A good while after Petunia had sent Hedwig off with a letter to her son, at about the same time that letter arrived at its destination, the commotion started up. Petunia was in the kitchen with the quartet, Remus, and Tonks, sipping her morning tea contentedly when, suddenly, they heard a shriek, followed by a shout. The shriek had been a woman's voice and the shout had been Regulus. Realizing that one of her patients had woken up, Petunia swiftly got up and hurried to the foyer. An instant later, everyone else was on her heals, Harry closest behind and Tonks right after him. The scene that they were met with in the 'hospital ward' was one of confusion.

Regulus was standing in an offensive position, his wand raised, pointed at Bellatrix Lestrange. The supposed death eater was actually on her feet, backed up agains the wall, her eyes wide as she stared at the man who had her cornered. Unbeknownst to Regulus, Andromeda had also woken and she had her wand pointed at her cousin's back. Upon seeing the scene, everyone halted. For a moment, the onlookers were not sure what to do. Subtley, Harry brushed the minds of the two witches. Bellatrix was frightened, not only because she was unarmed and had a wand trained on her, but also because she thought, as had nearly everyone else at some point or another, that Regulus was Sirius. Andromeda knew who Regulus was and only had her wand trained on him because he was threatening her sister. Finally reaching a decision, Harry took out his wand. He muttered something and a loud bang sounded. "Everyone, put your wands _down_," he ordered in a loud, commanding voice. Regulus and Andromeda obeyed. As he looked at the woman responsible for his godfather's death, Harry only managed to restrain himself from harming her by reminding himself of the deatheaters' reports on the attack. That almost wasn't enough and he had to mentally repeat, as if it were a mantra, 'Information. She's worth nothing dead. She has information. She's worth nothing dead.' Other than turning to face him when he had set off the _bang_, none of the three had moved. Inwardly steeling himself for a task that would require all the self-control he could muster, he commanded, "Regulus, remove yourself to the doorway. I shall not have you terrorizing _either_ of my aunt's patients. Mrs. Tonks, please lie back down and be at ease. You are still recovering from several injuries. I do believe Madame Pomfrey will have my head if I permit either your sister or yourself to further harm yourselves from overexertion." He watched with an expression of confident, calm authority as Andromeda slowly began lowering herself back down onto her bed. She must have seen her daughter because the slightly panicked expression left her face and she put her wand back on the end table that served as a bedside table. Turning his gaze to the other woman, who was still backed up against the wall, he said, "Likewise, Bella, if you would be so kind as to return to your bed?" He hadn't meant to cal her Bella, but it had rolled right off his tongue. Apparently, he had heard Voldemort use the nickname enough that the Dark Lord's habit of addressing her that way had become Harry's habit as well. His voice, when he spoke to her, was also a reflection of Voldemort, though it was actually one of Tom Riddle's mannerisms which Voldemort had just happened to retain. In response to the unexpected form of address and the question that was not really a question, the elder of the two sisters hesitantly obeyed. Once both women were both properly situated and Regulus was no longer viewed by either of them as a threat, Harry signaled for Petunia to go in and look each of them over. Tonks tried to follow her, but both Harry and Remus put an arm out to block her way. Outnumbered, the young woman waited impatiently as Petunia finished assessing their status.

"Mrs. Lestrange," Harry's aunt told him, in a detached, passive manner, "still needs to remain in bed, requires a blood replenishing potion, and should not attempt to exert herself at all for at least another twenty-four hours. Mrs. Tonks should also remain on bedrest for another day, but is otherwise recovered." Hearing that, Harry lowered his arm, as did Remus, and Tonks rushed in and threw her arms around her mother. Everyone else looked between Harry and Bellatrix, waiting to see what the former would do in regards to the latter.

"Once you have given her the blood-replenishing potion, which I'm sure you have on hand," Harry said in the calm, almost Dumbledore-like voice, seeing his aunt nod in affirmation, "will she be in a state fit for questioning?" Inwardly, Harry wondered where on earth his sudden self-control and calm attitude had come from.

"Yes," his aunt replied with another nod, "as long as 'questioning' only consists of interview under veritaserum."

"Very well then," the emerald-eyed teenager said in response, "Carry on." Then he turned to the others, realizing that he simply could not have them all standing around. "Remus, I trust you have some means of contacting Professor McGonagall. Would you please inform her –her, not Moody- that Bellatrix is awake. She will want to be present for the questioning. Also request that she bring a vial of veritaserum with her." Still unused to his surrogate godson's authoritative attitude, he went into the kitchen feeling slightly bewildered. "Regulus," would you mind very much disappearing to Privet Drive for a while? I think you presense here is disturbing both our 'guests'."

The man was wary about leaving his nephew alone with a witch that was a well known murderer and madwoman, but then he reminded himself that McGonagall, as well as Tonks and Remus would protect Harry if anything were to happen. "Sure," he answered after a moment's hesitation, "how long do you want me to disappear for?"

"Until I call you." Seeing the haunted look that crossed his uncle's face, Harry specified, "Until I fire-call you." The haunted look vanished. Regulus bid everyone farewell and used the parlor grate to floo to his wife's house. That left Hermione, Ginny, and Ron. Harry felt bad about making them leave, but knew that they would only distract him if they remained. He considered something for a moment before deciding the people he was thinking about could be trusted with the information. "Ron, do you know how to get to Neville's house?" His best friend nodded. "Good," Harry said, "Can you floo there and tell Neville and Mrs. Longbottom that the Lestranges have all been captured? Make sure they keep quiet about it though." A few minutes later, Ron had departed. Knowing the kind of information the Black Library held, and knowing that, despite the 'shady' subject, Hermione could not resist looking something up, especially in such an ancient library, Harry told her, "Mione, there's something I really need to know and I need you to look it up for me in the library." He had her full attention. "I need you to find out anything and everything you can about modified imperious curses." She frowned. "I think someone had one on Bellatrix." She didn't look too convinced. "Please, Mione? It's important." He put a pleading edge in his voice.

She sighed, "Oh, alright, Harry. But I'm going to need help since I don't have any idea where in the library to look."

'Two birds with one stone,' Harry thought as he turned to the other girl. "Gin?"

"Fine, I'll help, but you're telling us everything when we get back."

"Of course," he agreed with a smile. He watched as the two girls disappeared through the double doors on the other side of the hallway and into the expansive library. A few seconds later, Petunia had found and administered the blook replenishing potion and Remus had returned from the kitchen.

"Harry," the medi-witch called.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia?"

"They're both well enough that as long as they remain on bedrest for one more day, I don't think my presence is needed."

"Alright," he replied, "You're free to go home then. I'll make sure your medical orders are followed. Thank you for your help."

"You're welcome," she answered. Then she began packing up her supplies. When she finished, she told him, "If you need me, just fire-call Privet Drive. I'm off from work this week." He assured her he would and they said goodbye. Remus informed Harry that McGonagall would be arriving in about five more minutes, also announcing that he had to leave because his parents were visiting him later that day. After hugging the last of the Marauders goodbye –Harry didn't count Wormtail- he allowed Remus to return to his own house.

Knowing that Bellatrix would need to be essentially isolated during the interrogation, Harry had Tonks bring Andromeda upstairs, where she could rest more comfortably. Tonks herself had to return to the foyer, however, due to the fact that she was the only person present who had a valid license to administer veritaserum. While she was upstairs, Harry vanished the no longer necessary cot. Then, making sure that he had Bellatrix's wand securely in his robe pocket, Harry took a seat and studied the quite anxious witch who had been left alone with him. The urge to curse her began nagging him, but he quickly willed himself to stop thinking about that and crushed the impulse before he could act on it, shoving any similar temptations into the far recesses of his mind.

He couldn't help thinking about his godfather though. Luckily all the wrathful thoughts were quiet, or at least, quieter. Unbeknownst to him, the woman who was sitting up uncomfortably in her makeshift bed was also thinking about Sirius. She had started along her train of thought when she realized that Harry was likely to be thinking about her cousin. The same image was replaying itself in both of their minds: Sirius' death. For Harry, this brought his thoughts of wrath and fury back to forefront. No thoughts of how useful she would be alive could silence his anger now. He was fighting fiercely with himself. Unfortunately his more merciful side was looking and for the first time, he actually felt the magic that connected him, through his bond with Voldemort, to the dark mark. And on his end of the connection, an impulse of magic energy had sparked. Telling himself it was out of his control now, he just let the impulse travel along the connection. Just before the energy reached Bellatrix's end of the connection, however, he and the energy were pulled back into his own mind and awareness with quite a shock as the supposed death eather whispered two words Harry never would have dreamed she's day. "I'm sorry." The emotion in her voice was raw. Fear was present, and guilt, and sincerity.

"What?" Harry asked her to repeat herself. He could not fathom what she would possibly bother to ever apologize for.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, her voice choked with, if he was not mistaken, repressed tears. "I didn't mean to do it! I never would have done it on purpose, not if I had a choice! I was actually trying to-" Here her voice cracked and, to Harry's stupefaction, tears gathered in her eyes. "I just- and then he-" Bellatrix suddenly broke down and began sobbing. Not wanting the others –particularly Ginny and Hermione- to hear, Harry threw up an imperturbable charm around the room Turning back around to face his godfather's murderer, he discovered that bewilderment had replaced anger.

"What are you _talking_about?" He sincerely hoped she would stop sobbing and answer him, if only because seeing Bellatrix Lestrange cry was so disconcerting.

It took her a moment, but she regained enough control of her composure to allow her to speak, though tears still fell from her eyes, trickling down her cheeks like liquid diamonds. "I'm talking about Sirius. I didn't want him dead, I swear. If had, I wouldn't have been throwing stunners at him. Besides, I would never have killed Siri," –Harry's raised eyebrow disappeared into his hairline at this point- "unless it was a direct order from Rodolphus or the Dark Lord. Even in my madness, something in me still grieved for him. He was my favorite cousin. I liked the McNair side of the family well enough, except the one who became a deatheater, and Regulus was –_is_fine, but the McNair's actually believed what the Blacks only purported to believe. And Regulus was far too young to be anything except annoying when he was a child. Sirius and I were friends though. I don't think I would have even attacked him as viciously as I did if I hadn't had to circumnavigate the curse." She stopped and covered her face with her hands. Harry was so dumbfounded that he was rendered speechless.

It happened that Minerva McGonagall chose that precise moment to arrive. When she walked into the room, she stopped short, seeing the scene in front of her, and not having heard a single word of the conversation, it was a bizarre scene indeed. Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived was gaping, his chin proverbially on the floor, at Bellatrix Lestrange, who was sitting on the side of her bed with her face covered by her hands, crying. It took her a moment to absorb this. Then she announced her presence by clearing her throat in such a way that no one could claim she was the least reminiscent of Dolores Umbridge.

Harry shook himself free from his shocked paralysis and respectfully greated his professor that would make one think that nothing even remotely unusual was going on. "Good morning, Professor McGonagall. Thank you for coming at such short notice. Remus did pass the message along asking you to bring a vial of veritaserum with you, didn't he?"

"Yes, of course," Minerva replied in an equally calm and relaxed tone. She was not about to be outdone in the composure department by a sixteen year old boy –even if that boy happened to be one of her four favorite students. She pulled the vial from a pocket in her robe and placed it on the nearest end table.

"Alright then. One minute, Professor, I'll be right back. I'm going to get Tonks, since she's the only one with a valid license to administer veritaserum." With that, he departed. A minute later, he returned with the aforementioned auror in tow. Whatever story Andromeda had told her daughter must have put Bellatrix in a good light because Tonks didn't seem apprehensive of or intimidated by her aunt. Not bothering to go through all the formalities, Tonks just took the vial of truth serum off the end table.

Looking at Harry and McGonagall, the young auror asked, "Harry, you're going to be the one doing the questioning, right?" He nodded. "Then I suppose you're the witness, professor." With this having been agreed to, she approached the cot on which Bellatrix sat.

"Tonks," McGonagall warned, "you might want to keep your wand out."

Turning briefly back to look at her former professor, Tonks replied, "I don't think she'll try anything. Besides, Madame Pomfrey said she can't do magic yet." Then she faced the woman about to be questioned. "I think you know the deal, Aunt Bellatrix. You have to drink the entire thing. No protests, or I'll be forced to restrain you." Though she had been told she had nothing to fear from her aunt, Nymphadora still hadn't expected the witch to docily obey, as she was doing now. The three onlookers waited patiently for the potion to take effect. Once the glazed look came over the supposed deatheater's now dry eyes, Tonks quietly tiptoed out of the room and back upstairs. Without a word of explaination, Harry handed Bellatrix's wand, as well as his own wand to McGonagall, who looked at him questioningly, but did not say anything.

Stepping in front of the woman he was to interrogate, Harry gathered all the restraint he could before asking in an aloof, almost cold voice, the standard first question for an interrogation under veritaserum. "What are your name and age?"

"My name is Bellatrix Katrina Lestrange and I am forty-eight years old. Harry, for some reason, had expected her to be much younger and glanced at McGonagall for confirmation. When the statement was confirmed as true, he continued.

"Are you a deatheater?"

"No." Harry and McGonagall did a double-take. _How_could she claim- "I bear the dark mark, but I am not loyal to the Dark Lord and yesterday, I quite publicly defected. I do not consider myself a deatheater any longer." Harry had been expecting something like that, but McGonagall had not and so, the later became transfixed with the proceedings.

"Did you willing take the dark mark," Harry asked curiously.

"No. At first I refused. Then my husbad put me under the imperious curse and forced me to be marked against my will."

The Boy-Who-Lived was surprised at this answer. He had already been suspicious that someone had used a modified version of the imperious to control her, even before she herself mentioned it, but he had thought that she must have at least taken the mark of her own free-will. "Do you know why he went through all that trouble?"

"The Dark Lord wanted my dueling and legilimency skills." Harry and McGonagall both looked at each other in surprise. Neither had suspected that Bellatrix was a legilimens. "Naturally talented Legilimens are hard to find. That, combined with the fact that I'm a powerful and have a penchant for the dark arts made me the ideal soldier for him, if he could only control me." Though this answer had been unexpected, it certainly made sense. It was interesting, Harry thought, that she described herself as a dark witch, and yet was not a willing supporter of the Dark Lord. It was something he would have to look into later.

"How was it that your husband controlled you for such an extended period of time?" This question referred to Harry's theory and Bellatrix's earlier claims about Sirius' death.

"He and the Dark Lord used a combination of the imperious curse and powerful memory modification spells to basically brainwash me into thinking and acting like the perfect deatheater. It even made me forget what my true morals and beliefs were. Because it was a modified version of the imperious, both the Dark Lord and Rodolphus could have complete control over me if they wanted. The brainwashing made their job easier by influencing me to do what would be expected of my supposedly of my own accord."

"How did you break the curse," the emerald-eyed boy questioned, assuming that the curse must be broken in order for her to have defected.

"I knew that both of my sisters were in danger. I knew that if I did what Rodolphus ordered me to do, then both of them would die. The instant I realized that, part of me started trying to fight the curse, except that I was fighting the curse much harder than I ever had before. I suppose that the power of love is underestimated, because it was my love for my little sisters that allowed me to finally break the curse."

"If you hadn't been under the imperious, would you have committed any of the crimes you have?"

"No. I never actually supported the Dark Lord or his cause. In fact, I never even sympathized with it. I don't like Muggles, and I think they're a danger to the magical community, and I think we should avoid contact with them at all costs, but I don't think it's necessary to kill them all." Harry raised an eyebrow at this, but nodded for her to go on. "Regulus, Narcissa, and I just gave the impression of supporting his views in front of our parents. Andromeda and Sirius were the only ones brave enough to show their true colors."

He hadn't been planning to ask this question, but Harry was too interested in the concept of Regulus and Narcissa never even truly sympathizing with Voldemort not to ask it. "Why is it that Regulus and Narcissa supported if not outright served Voldemort, then?" Minerva was also very keen on hearing this explanation since both Regulus and Narcissa had betrayed Voldemort in the end too.

"Regulus was young, angry, and foolish. Poor Cissy was just blinded by love." Suddenly, Harry turned around to face Minerva.

"Professor McGonagall," the young wizard requested, "I may loose my temper. If I do, then take any measures necessary to restrain me." Slightly confused by this request until she recalled the previous day's Voldemort-like outburst, she nodded in affirmation and held her wand at the ready incase it was indeed necessary to restrain him. Steeling himself and taking a deep breath, Harry at last asked the question he had been holding off on. "Why did you kill Sirius Black?" Suddenly the Hogwarts headmistress understood why her student might need to be restrained. Luckily, Bellatrix said almost the same thing she had told Harry before McGonagall's arrival.

"I didn't intend to kill him. I just wanted to stun him. That way no one would pay him any attention and he was less likely to be caught or killed. I didn't know that the Veil was the Veil to the land of the dead. I didn't even know he would fall through it." For a moment, the room was silent as the interrogator and the witness tried to wrap their minds around the fact that Bellatrix had actually been trying, albeit in a very roundabout way, to _protect_ Sirius at the Department of Mysteries a year ago.

Still finding that claim difficult to believe, Harry asked, "Having been brainwashed, why wouldn't you just kill him?"

Her voice still completely unaffected due to the potion, Bellatrix replied, "Sometimes, not very often, but sometimes, I would have my moments of clarity when I could circumnavigate or find a loophole in my condition."

"But after you killed him," Harry asked sharply, finally voicing the question that had been nagging him, "you acted as expected and mocked me. Why?"

"By then, my moment of clarity was over," Bellatrix explaned. "I could never fight the curse for more than five minutes or so. The only reason I was able to fight the conditioning while I was dulling him was because, technically, dueling him was within my conditioning, even if my intentions were not."

"You claim to have defied and betrayed Voldemort. If that is true, do you wish to support the light side?" By now both Harry and McGonagall had an idea of what she might say.

"Yes." Her reply was surprisingly firm. "Though my true ideals, the ones I dared not show until now, are much closer to neutral, neutrality is not an option. I would support the light side."

Thinking very carefully on how to phrase his last question, there was a over a minute of silence. Then finally, he asked the question that might very well decide the now ex-deatheater's fate. "If your allegiance lies with the light side, would you be willing to tell, under veritaserum if necessary, Voldemort's secrets and plans? And if so, why?"

"I would, gladly. The Dark Lord stole my free-will, he forced me to commit abhorrent crimes. He has made me a murderer. He took away my daughter and has made me sign away _her_ freedom. He destroyed my life. I probably hate him as much as you do." And with that, her fate was all but sealed. Luckily for her, that fate worked very much in her favor.

"Daughter," McGonagall repeated, taking over the role as questioner. "You said Voldemort made you sign your daughter's freedom away. Who is your daughter? Where is she? Why has her freedom been jeopardized?" She asked the questions all at once so that Bellatrix could answer them all before the truth serum wore off.

"Her name is Kassandra. She lives with Rodolphus' younger sister, Samara, who is part of an operation in France. When Kassandra was born, I was forced to sign a contract saying that she would one day serve the Dark Lord and that if something ever happened to me, she would take my place in the inner circle. All the inner circle members had to sign contracts like that. Now I have defected and Lucius is dead, the Dark Lord is going to have Draco and Kassandra take out places. It might be too late to save Draco since he already bears the mark, but someone needs to get Kassandra before the Dark Lord does, or she will suffer the same fate as I did." Once Bellatrix finished saying this, the glazed look slowly began to fade from her eyes until she had returned to a normal state of thinking. And with this, returned her emotions. Looking at the floor near Harry, but not actually meeting his eyes, she asked, "So what will happen to me?"

Harry looked at her searchingly for a moment before responding with a question of his own. "Whose fate do you want to know first? Yours or your daughter's?"

"Kassandra's," Bellatrix answered desperately.

"Well then give me a moment," the emerald-eyed wizard said before concentrating on the mental plane. He searched through his memories from the later years of Tom Riddle's life and discovered that it was possible to activate a singular dark mark and summon the deatheater without causing pain. Harry knew he had said he would fire-call Regulus, but he was too curious. He had to know if this worked. He closed his eyes and followed his link to Voldemort to the other end and then to the end of a link that served as the collective center that connected all the dark marks. From there, he searched until he found the individual strand that went outward from the center and linked him to Regulus' mark specifically. Then he sent some of his magic along the path. When it reached it's destination and Regulus' dark mark was activated, Harry pulled back into his own mind and opened his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said to both Minerva and Bellatrix. "Regulus should be able to help you and I've just summoned him. He might not understand who is summoning him, so let us wait ten minutes. Bella, you're welcome to a chair if it is more desirable than your cot."

* * * * *

"So," Octavian asked his father, awed and impressed, "You stole something from You-Know-Who and his deatheaters couldn't find it even though it was in your _pocket_?" Regulus nodded. He prepared to continue with his story, but then something strange happened that distracted him and made him loose his train of thought. His dark mark had suddenly become warm. It wasn't the burning pain he was accustomed to. It was a benign warmth. The emotions behind it were not the usual anger and impatience. They were expectancy and concern. The magic behind it felt ever so slightly different. But what made it all fall into place was the picture that accompanied the tingling in his arm. The Dark Lord normally sent a picture of the place they were to apparate to along with the burning. This time the picture was of the foyer at Grimwald Place and the focal point of the image was his nephew. Stunned, Regulus realized that Harry had found a way to summon him through the dark mark. "Octavian," Regulus began, "I'm very sorry, but I've just realized it's time for me to get back to my 'job', if you know what I mean. I promise I'll come visit you as soon as I can. Alright?"

"Don't feel bad. Just make sure you visit again this week or Mum might have a search part sent out after you," the boy joked understandingly, completely at ease with his father. Regulus smiled gratefully, before he apparated into Grimwald Place.

* * * * *

So as not to startle anyone, Regulus apparated into the parlor instead of the foyer. He then entered the room through the archway connecting the two, a much less startling enterance. When his nephew saw him walk through the doorway, the boy's brow furrowed and he asked, "Were my 'coordinates' off?"

"No," Regulus replied, actually quite pleased with Harry, "You're coordinates were clear and perfectly accurate. I just didn't want to startle either of the ladies by apparating unannounced into the room, so I apparated into the foyer." Knowing that there would be time to discuss Harry's achievement later, and inferring that to summon him, Harry must need his assistance quite urgently, Regulus asked, "So what can I do for you, my friend?" The answer he got was a great deal longer than he had at first expected.

When Harry, Minerva, and Bellatrix were finally finished explaining the situation and the plan, Regulus took a moment to absorb it all and then asked, "So you want me to morph so that I look exactly like Rodolphus and portkey to Marseilles, France, where I am supposed to find Samara Lestrange and, pretending to be Rodolphus, rescue Kassandra and bring her back to England, where she will then automatically be put under the legal guardianship of Andromeda until Bellatrix is cleared, at which time Kassandra will be given into the custody of her mother?" Minerva seemed almost impressed that Regulus had summed it up so accurately and succinctly. Bellatrix just looked like she was trying not to get her hopes up.

Harry, on the other hand, smiled and nodded in confirmation, replying, "Basically, that's the general idea."

"You know, don't you, Harry, that you're absolutely out of your mind?" When he saw his nephew nod, he smiled too and finished by saying, "Good. I just wanted to make sure you were aware of that fact. As for going on this crazy assignment for your insane rescue mission, I say: What the Hell? Why not?"


End file.
